Unforgiven
by Silfrvarg
Summary: AU of Phantoms. What if Sheppard's aim had been better when he shot McKay?  On the run from his own people and totally alone, will he find forgiveness from himself and his friends or fall into darkness? Shepwhump as standard.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Unforgiven

**Description:** AU of Phantoms. What if Sheppard's aim had been better when he shot McKay? On the run from his own people and totally alone, will he find forgiveness from himself and his friends or fall into darkness? Shepwhump as standard.

**Characters: **John Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon, Rodney McKay, Elizabeth Weir, Evan Lorne

**Rating:** M for dark themes, violence and torture in later chapters.

**Setting:** AU for Phantoms

**Warnings: **Swearing, violence and dark themes. Character Death/s.

**Author's Note: **This story originated from an idea I had way back when I first started writing, just after finishing "They would find him". I couldn't make it work back then sadly and deleted it. The other day it crossed my mind and I figured it out. I hope you enjoy it.

Please bear with me with this story, I still have a lot of trouble writing dialogue and keeping control of more than a few characters.

I should warn you though, this is a dark story even by my standards, and, if it goes in the direction I want it to, it will make all my previous stories look like lighthearted fluff.

Thanks to my beta, Werewolf Girl 22 for helping me iron out the kinks.

Anyways, on with the story.

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><p><em>How could he know<em>

_This new dawn's light_

_Would change his life forever?_

The Unforgiven III (Metallica)

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><p>He was running through the desert, his lungs searing as he breathed in the hot, dry air, his skin scorching as the sun beat down upon him, and his arms burning from the effort of carrying Holland as they fled the Taliban soldiers. They has scattered when the truck blew up, but he knew they wouldn't have gone far. Cresting another sand dune he saw one of the enemy soldiers, dropping Holland he raised his rifle at the enemy.<p>

"John, no!" cried Holland. He didn't have time to wonder why his friend was so intent on sparing the life of an enemy soldier.

The enemy raised his arms, surrendering, and John felt a brief pang of sympathy, but he couldn't allow the man to come up behind him with more soldiers, so he fired a round into his chest, just as he shouted out, his hands weakly going to the bullet wound which was staining his rough shirt red.

Ignoring the soldier, he's not a threat anymore, John knelt next to Holland, noticing his friend looked white as a sheet. They needed to get out of here. Pulling out his radio he started calling for assistance again.

"Arclight, this is Roundhouse Zero-Six. Come in." Holland was crawling towards the afghan soldier, speaking, but John couldn't hear what he was saying.

"Arclight, this is Roundhouse Zero-Six. Do you read? Arclight, this is Roundhouse Zero-Six. Do you read?" The soldier coughed and said a few words to Holland.

"Arclight, respond. We need to get the hell out of here!"

Holland interrupted him, his voice hoarse.

"The interference is coming from in there."

John scanned in the direction but could see nothing. "Nothing there, only sand." he murmured.

"There is a cave, take me in there, now!" Holland shouts, and, confused, John lifts him up, walking towards the cave that seems to appear out of nowhere. He hears the hiss and snap of bullets as he and Holland come under fire again, hurrying into the cave he takes cover while Holland messes around with some sort of machine.

"He was almost finished, why did he stop?" Holland murmured, pointing to a large cable. "Reach in there. The largest cord, follow it with your hand until you reach the end."

John hesitated, unsure of what he was asking him to do. "_Do_ it, John. Then you can radio for help and get us out of here."

He followed the cable with his hands, deep into a tangle of cables, "There, that's it."

Just then another Taliban soldier walked in, pistol aimed at John's head.

"Pull it!" Barked Holland, and John did. The scene around him seemed to flash and he was standing in a dank cave surrounded by what looks like wraith tech, Ronon aiming his blaster at him.

"Ronon."

"Sheppard."

"Hey buddy, you wanna lower your gun?"

He sighed with relief as Ronon lowered the blaster, he's pretty sure it wasn't set on stun.

He turned to see Teyla's face going pale, "Rodney!" she shouted, trying to drag herself out of the cave. Sheppard rushed to help her, remembering the soldier he shot his heart races.

_It can't be!_

They stumbled out of the cave and Teyla drops by Rodney's side. The scientist is ashen and still, his eyes blank and staring and John started seeing little black dots swim in front of his eyes as he realised neither of them are breathing.

"Carson!" Teyla yelled, her face a mask of fear. She turned to Ronon, he is injured but she knew he can do what needs to be done.

"Get Carson, now!" as Ronon ran off she turned to John. "Help me!" Her voice jolted him out of his daze and he took a breath, kneeling beside McKay he knows what he has to do, and started CPR, losing himself in the rhythm.

_Two breaths, thirty compressions, check for breathing. Two breaths, thirty compressions, check for breathing. Two breaths, thirty compressions, check for..._

Confident arms moved him away as Carson took over, and he stood up and walked away, his eyes unseeing, and slumped against a tree, sick with fear and self loathing.

_What had he done? Rodney..._

"Still no pulse! Dammit Rodney! Breath!" The normally composed doctor had tears streaming down his face. Ronon walked into the clearing carrying Kagan. The man was alive, which is more than could be said for Rodney. Carson continued CPR, not ready to give up on his friend, his movements still sure and steady even as his voice breaks as there is no response, the clearing silent except for the sounds of Carson's desperate attempts to save Rodney.

Ronon placed a hand on Carson's shoulder. "Carson, he's gone." The big mans voice was rough yet gentle as he reached down and closed McKay's eyes. John turned his head away, unable to face the stares of his friends or look at the sight of his best friend lying dead. He took a hold of all his emotions and buried them deep inside where they could not hurt him, focusing on the task at hand. He could not afford to break down now.

"Carson, stay here and look after Teyla and Kagan. You to Ronon, get that arm seen to."

"Where are you going?" Ronon growled, "Everyone else is dead."

John flinched at the verbal slap, "I don't want to assume there is no one else out there only to be surprised later." he ground out. "So I am establishing a perimeter."

Without another word he walked away from the clearing. He sat atop a fallen log that gave him a good view of the clearing and it's surrounds, watching for any signs of danger. A few minutes later his radio burst into life.

"Sheppard this is Atlantis. Do you read?" It was good to here Elizabeth's voice over the radio, but he wished he didn't have to be the one to tell her of what had happened.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard, good to hear from you."

"The feeling is mutual," He heard a wry voice say, "You had us worried. What's the situation there?"

"Teyla and Ronon are wounded, but its not to serious. Leonard, Largent and Barossa are dead." He swallowed, his throat sore, "So is McKay." He added quietly.

"Rodney?" She asked, her voice stunned. "How?"

"Friendly fire." He said curtly. "Listen, I can give a full report later in person, right now we need to get off this planet."

"Daedalus should be there by nightfall, do you need us to send more men in?" She asked, her voice subdued.

"No, Beckett should be able to handle the wounded until then."

"Any residual effects from the device?"

"Not that I can tell."

"Very well, get our men home. We'll check back in a few hours. Atlantis out."

John cradled his head in his hands for a moment, pulling himself back together to stand watch for the next couple of hours.

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><p>It was close to nightfall as John walked into the clearing, unable to look at the shrouded bodies or face the eyes of his friends. He stared at the forest floor instead. Daedalus had radioed a few moments ago to tell him that they were in orbit.<p>

"Daedalus is ready to beam when you are doc."

Carson took a last look around the clearing, checking to make sure everything is ready to be beamed. He nodded, satisfied.

"Righto lad, give the order." His voice was subdued, and John knew today's losses have hit him very hard. He picks up the radio.

"Daedalus this is Sheppard, we are ready to be beamed out."

"Copy that Sheppard." he heard, and a familiar white flash heralding his arrival on the Daedalus. Daedalus's medical staff moved forwards to take care of the wounded and dead, Carson following to give them the rundown of the injuries sustained, leaving John alone and facing Caldwell, who's face was as unreadable as ever. After a few moments he passed a hand over his eyes.

"What on earth happened down there Sheppard?"

He swallowed past his painful throat and stood at ease in front of Daedalus's commander, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

"We went through the gate after Leonard's team failed to return or report. Things were pretty chaotic on the planet, a wraith device was causing mass hallucinations. Most people reacted violently towards them believing everyone around them to be various enemies, wraith, gou'uld and such. Of everyone only Teyla was unaffected. McKay managed to get the device mostly shut down before he was overcome by hallucinations himself, but he told Teyla how to finish his work. I managed to unplug the device, but by that point only Carson, Teyla, Ronon, Kagan and myself were left alive. Teyla was hit in the leg by Leonard, Ronon took a bullet to the arm and Rodney was shot in the chest, he bled out pretty fast, but managed to tell Teyla how to turn off the device."

Caldwell took a while to process that, before asking "Who shot Dex and McKay?"

Sheppard looked to the ground, fighting against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He bit the inside of his cheek, the pain helping him regain his normally ironclad self control, and he looked Caldwell in the eye.

"I did sir."

"You did?" Caldwell's eyes flashed, something like disgust crossing his normally impassive features. Sheppard gritted his teeth and bears the other mans scrutiny.

"I was affected by the device as much as anyone. The hallucinations were vivid and realistic enough for me to believe that Ronon and McKay were the enemy. That being said, nothing can excuse me of my actions, or absolve me of my guilt. I take full responsibility for everything that has occurred today."

His mouth was dry, his head spinning, and he was fully aware that he will probably lose his career over this, but he didn't care, all he wanted to do is lock himself in his quarters so he can break down in private. But what he wanted more is to get off the deck of this ship, he can barely keep control even without the accusing glare he is receiving from Caldwell.

"We will discuss this later, at length," Caldwell said frostily, "In the meantime go to the infirmary, get yourself checked over for any unnoticed injuries. Someone will then show you to your quarters."

John snapped a salute and walked to the infirmary as ordered, although he really didn't feel like being questioned. He felt fine, physically at least. Sure he had a headache and he's exhausted, but nothing worth going to the infirmary for.

When he gets there Ronon was having the dressings on his arm changed, Teyla's leg was being seen to and Carson was pottering around looking for something to do. Spotting John he walked over, concern on his face.

"Is something the matter Colonel? Any injuries you failed to mention?" Carson knew all to well that John would hide an injury if he didn't think it were life threatening.

"No, nothing like that," John said wearily, "Caldwell just ordered me to get checked out in the infirmary before going to my quarters to rest."

"Well lad I can take care of that for you. Sit down over here." Carson replied, motioning to an empty bed. John complied, sitting on the side of the bed.

Carson walked over, and John suppressed a groan at the object in his hand, it's a penlight.

"Not the penlight doc." He complained.

"Just being thorough." The doc replied, shining it into his eyes and watching as he flinched away from the light.

"Pupil response is good,a little light sensitivity though. Headache?" John shook his head, a bad move, as it made it throb just to prove he is a liar, and he couldn't hide the wince.

"I'll take that as a yes. Here, take these," he said, pulling out a bottle of Tylenol, "And get some rest, you're done in, I can tell."

"Thanks doc." John said, standing to leave.

"John?" Carson asks before he can go, "If you need to talk..." he left it hanging.

"I'm right doc." He lied, walking away.

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><p>Someone escorted him to his room, he locked the door, releasing the shaky breath he has been keeping locked inside, and sat on his bunk, his hands shaking as he let the walls he keeps around his heart drop. Normally he would just lock the pain away, another regret, another man lost because of his failure, another name on the long list of people that owed there deaths either directly or indirectly to him, but he couldn't.<p>

Rodney had been a friend. If he was honest with himself, he had been more than a friend, a best friend, a brother, the person he trusted and valued above all others, and he had put a bullet in his chest.

Unbidden the image of Rodney lying on the forest floor, blood covering his clothes and his once lively eyes so very very blank appeared and ripped any semblance of control away from him, the dam breaks loose and he bit his lip so hard it bled to smother the scream that is torn from his throat, hot tears fell down his face as the depth of his failure overwhelmed him.

He fell backwards, slumping on his bunk as his shoulders shook with suppressed sobs, and it hurt so much because he knwhe has no one to blame but himself. They would never argue again over which superhero was cooler, or play chess, or race remote control cars through the hallways, he will never be used as a guinea pig to turn on some piece of ancient tech, he would never just sit there arguing for the hell of it, just to get a rise from Rodney. He cried until his throat is raw and his face is wet, but he never made a sound, the last thing he wants is someone coming in to see him like this. Finally he had no more tears left to shed, and let exhaustion take him.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, let me know what you think, reviews make me write faster!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Next chapter is up! I should have ironed out all the mistakes like tense changes, but this chapter is Unbeta'd so there may still be some. For the people waiting for whumpage you'll have to wait because the first few chapters are mainly establishing the storyline, as opposed to gratuitous violence, but that will definately play a part in the later chapters!**

**Reviews stop the plot bunnies from murdering me in my sleep!**

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><p><em>I don't think that I could take another empty moment<em>

_I don't think that I could fake another hollow smile_

_It's not enough just to be lonely_

_I don't think that I could take another talk about it_

Bed of Lies (Matchbox 20)

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><p>John blinked for a moment to clear the spots that swam in his eyes after the bright flash from beaming from the Daedalus back to Atlantis, turning to face Elizabeth as she greeted them. The others had been beamed to the infirmary so that they could be checked out, and, in the case of Kagan, settled into Atlantis's infirmary.<p>

"Colonel Caldwell, Colonel Sheppard, welcome back to Atlantis. If you will follow me, we have some things that need to be discussed." Her voice was controlled, none of its usual warmth, and John grimaced inwardly.

As he walked towards the conference room he couldn't help but notice the glares that the gate technicians sent his way, he wasn't honestly surprised, news always traveled fast around Atlantis, and he knew that the scientists in particular would hold him responsible for their boss's demise.

Elizabeth walked through the doors, Caldwell in tow, and John followed last of all, the doors closing behind him even without conscious thought on his behalf, the city, as always, anticipating his needs before he was even aware of them. Elizabeth sat down and motioned for both men to do the same. Caldwell took a seat at her right, John at her left. She looked grimly at the reports in front of her, her lips pursed as she considered where to start.

"I have read the reports of the mission to M1B-129. By all accounts it was... disastrous. The losses of Leonard, Largent and Barossa will be felt keenly, as for the loss of Dr. McKay, I am not sure how we will manage without him. I would have never said as much to his face, but his sheer brilliance is one of the main reasons we are still here," She paused for a moment, her eyes showing some of the grief that she felt for her chief scientist. "This was yet another loss which we could not afford, and more safety precautions must be implemented incase something like this happens again."

She turned to scrutinize John, her eyes showing some concern. "I understand that in Dr. Beckett's report he suggested that everyone who was on that mission undergo counseling and a psychological evaluation before returning to active duty. Teyla and Ronon have both had counseling, as has he, and Kagan has already booked a session with Dr. Heightmeyer. I do not believe you have made an appointment, Colonel Sheppard."

John shook his head. "No, I have not. You know how I feel about shrinks."

"Yes, your reluctance in that area is well known. However I am afraid you will have to make an appointment, I have agreed with Dr. Beckett's recommendation and unless you undergo an evaluation I am afraid I will have to take you off active duty and relieve you of command."

John's face fell, "I understand."

Elizabeth smiled, "Good, I will let Dr. Heightmeyer know to expect you within the week."

John looked down, ashamed, "I said I understood Dr. Weir. I didn't say I would do it."

Her face betrayed her level of shock at his statement, "John..."

"I'm not going to let some psychologist go poking around in my head, not even Heightmeyer." Part of his mind shrieked at him that this was a mistake, that he should just go to the session, grin and lie his way through the evaluation so he could stay in Atlantis, but he knew that he couldn't do that. He couldn't even bring himself to bare his soul to his most trusted friend, let alone a shrink.

Elizabeth seemed to sag for a moment, before straightening with a determined look on her face, forcing herself to do what had to be done.

"In that case I have know choice but to relieve you of both duty and command. You will report to the infirmary, where you will stay until such time as Dr. Beckett decides to release you. Is that understood?"

John stood, his back straight and his eyes steady, "Yes Dr. Weir."

"Very well, you are dismissed." He turned and left the room, headed for the infirmary.

Only once he was gone did Elizabeth put her head in her hands, taking a few moments to regain her composure as Caldwell sat patiently beside her. Finally she turned to address the Daedalus's commander.

"You will take command while you remain here?" She asked.

"As the most senior officer here I do not see any reason not to." He said, his voice neutral.

She nodded, "Very well then, I will see that people are informed of the change," She sighed, "Back to these reports then. I understand that it is your opinion that Colonel Sheppard is unfit for command at this time?"

"It is ma'am. I know you and I have not always seen things the same way, but it is my honest belief that Colonel Sheppard would be a danger to himself and his men if he were to be put in command right now," He sighed, although he didn't like the man he did have a grudging respect for him, "What is worse is that I think this is also his belief. A military commander cannot afford to doubt himself."

"Much as I dislike saying it, I agree Colonel. How long will the Daedalus be here?"

"Three weeks ma'am, then she will make the return journey."

"Very good, that gives us three weeks to reach a decision about Colonel Sheppard's position in Atlantis. I assume that it is your recommendation he be returned to Earth unless he agrees to the evaluation?"

"It is. If he cannot be cleared for active duty, let alone command, then he has no place in Atlantis's military force, and although I understand he is quite intelligent, he is know scientist."

"I do not know if we can afford to lose him," She said wearily, "The ancient gene he carries is the strongest on the base, the city responds well to Lorne and Beckett, and those with the artificial gene have some level of control, but no one else can use ancient technology nearly as well as he can."

"What would you have me do? Keep him here as a civilian just incase his gene is needed? I may not know him very well but I do not think he would be content to sit back while other people went on missions."

"No, he would not," her face fell, "If he were to go back to earth, what would happen to him."

Caldwell looked uncomfortable, "It is likely that he will still be required to submit to a psych evaluation, but, if he passes it, he should be able to resume active duty. If he does not, they will probably try to find a use for that gene of his."

"And if he still refuses to talk to a psychiatrist?" She asked, concerned, if john felt so strongly about seeing a psychiatrist that he was prepared to lose his place in Atlantis over it she knew he would never willingly see one on Earth.

"I don't honestly know what they will do. He may be evaluated even without his consent, or discharged, or even committed if they think his psych issues are serious enough."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Elizabeth said, a bitter taste in her mouth at the thought of John in a psych ward somewhere.

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><p>John arrived in the infirmary. It was as busy as ever, a few slightly singed scientists being treated for mild burns (he smiled inwardly for a moment at the thought of the chewing-out they would have gotten from Rodney before he smothered the emotion), a marine with a broken ankle, a few people with a particularly nasty sounding cough and some just waiting for routine health checks as he was. He waited for a while, leaning against a wall and trying his best to ignore the stares from scientists and military personnel alike. He was sorely tempted to just walk out and go back to his quarters, but he didn't want to cause Elizabeth any more headaches than he had already, so he decided to suck it up and wait until someone was free to check him out.<p>

If he was entirely honest with himself he felt like crap, he hadn't slept well since that fateful mission, waking most nights drenched in sweat just in time to muffle the scream that always threatened to escape, it would do no good for someone to hear him, his psychological state was in question already, if anyone knew he had nightmares where Rodney just stared at him with empty eyes, he was done for. They'd lock him up in a padded room and pump him full of so many drugs that he couldn't even remember the faces of his friends.

His grim thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice, "Colonel Sheppard, what are you doing here lad? Not injured already?" Carson asked with a small wry smile, only half joking, John's tendency towards catastrophe was legendary. It was good to see his friend smiling, even if it was only a small one.

"No Carson, I'm fine," He said, feeling his own lips tug with the tiniest hint of a smile despite everything, "Dr. Weir just sent me down here for a health check, I can go once you give me the all clear." This last part he said with a hopeful expression, really not wanting to have to sit around in the infirmary surrounded by what seemed like half the base right now.

Carson's expression dashes his hopes, "Well I'll have to give you a thorough checkup first, to be honest you don't look so good son. If you'll follow me then." He walked off into one of the exam rooms, John following with a sinking feeling, Carson may be a cheerful guy, but his word is law in medical matters.

As soon as he gets into the exam room the dreaded penlight is pulled out. "Doc..." he complains, not even having to mention the word penlight.

Carson gives a chuckle, "I know you hate the thing Colonel, but the sooner I use it the sooner it's out of the way." He shines the light in both eyes, and they water painfully, but Carson seems happy with the result. Next he has john hop on the scales. This did not go over so well.

"You have lost fifteen pounds since your last checkup. Normally that wouldn't be so bad but your not exactly bulky to begin with. Have you not been eating enough?"

John squirmed guiltily, "I haven't had much of an appetite lately."

"Nausea?" Carson asked, his eyes intent, and John knew he wouldn't be able to lie his way out of this one.

"A little, usually just after eating or just before."

Carson pursed his lips, thinking, and went through a few more tests, taking a blood sample while he was at it, "Just in case there's some underlying reason for your nausea," he explained when John looked surprised.

When he was done he sat down, seemingly lost in thought. John fidgeted, waiting for Carson to clear him. When he didn't speak for another few moments he asked, "So doc, what's the verdict?"

"What? Oh, sorry lad, just wool gathering. Yes, there seems to be nothing that could cause loss of appetite and nausea, and apart from that and some sleep deprivation your in decent health, so I see no reason to keep you in the infirmary. However I will give you something to help you sleep, don't look at me like that," he said when John scowled, "I know you're not sleeping well. To be honest, neither am I. I will also give you an anti-emetic to help with the nausea, take that whenever you need to."

He ducked out to the medicine cabinet to get the necessary medications, returning with the two bottles. As he handed them over he noticed that John was reluctant to meet his eyes for more than a moment and sighed.

"Look, lad, I know you like to keep it bottled up, but if you ever need someone to talk to about how you're feeling, I'm here. As a friend."

John shifted uncomfortably, his chest hurting with grief and guilt, wishing he could trust himself to talk, but it was an idle wish. He would keep his feelings to himself as he always did, the burden of shame and regret was his to bear. He knew Carson was just trying to help him, but if he started talking he would never stop, and feelings he had been keeping locked away for decades would be relived. He honestly didn't think he could survive that and remain sane.

"I'll keep it in mind doc, and thanks."

"You're welcome. Get some rest, you need it." He sighed, knowing that John wouldn't take him up on his offer.

As John was walking out of the infirmary he caught sight of Teyla and Ronon. Teyla was sitting on a chair, the crutches that she still needed to walk with leaning against it, next to Ronon, who was sitting on and infirmary bed having his stitches removed from the wound in his arm.

The pretty young nurse removed the last stitch with a smile, "It will be sore for at least a week, so don't use it more than you have to."

John could tell by the look on his friend's face that he fully intended to disregard that instruction, and would probably be down in the gym terrifying the marines within the hour. The nurse seemed to realize this as well, and pursed her lips with slight disapproval.

Seeing this, Teyla placed a hand on Ronon's arm, "I will make sure he doesn't injure it again."

"Thank you." The nurse said with relief.

As she stood she caught sight of John, who turned to leave.

"Colonel Sheppard." she called, moving over to him, and somehow managing to be graceful even on crutches.

"Why are you in the infirmary, not unwell I hope?" She asked, her eyes concerned. Inwardly he groaned, lately everyone seemed concerned about him.

"I am fine, just a checkup." She eyed the two bottles of pills he was holding in his hand questioningly.

"A sedative and an anti-emetic," he added, "Carson seems to think I need more sleep, and I made the mistake of mentioning that my stomach felt a bit off."

"You know he is only looking out for you." She said, her voice gently teasing as always.

He gave a her a tiny smile, "I know." The smile slid off his face soon enough though. "How's the leg?"

"Better. Carson says I will be off these crutches within a few days."

"That's great." He said, hating the fact that he felt he needed to make small talk. Things had been... awkward between him and Teyla since the mission, but at least she still talked to him, even if it was small talk.

Sighing, he turned to leave. "I should go and get some rest," he lied, "It was nice talking to you."

"Same here," she smiled, "See you later, John."

He waved and left, hiding a sigh of relief as he left the room. If things between him and Teyla were awkward, they were positively icy between him and Ronon. The runner hadn't said more than a few words to him since that day, they no longer ran or exercised together, the usual way that John let of steam after a bad mission. He had the feeling that he had lost two wonderful friendships that day, and did not press the other man. If Ronon ever wanted to see him again he was sure the other man would make the first steps. He did not blame the other man for his attitude, at the moment he hated himself with an intensity that not even Ronon, with all his capacity for rage, could hope to achieve.

Walking into his room, he sat down on the bed, not realizing how tired he was until then. His lie about getting some rest actually sounded like a pretty good idea right now, and he popped a pill, lying down and kicking his boots off, not even bothering to get changed. With a thought he locked the door and dimmed the lights, feeling sluggish and muted as the pills took effect. His last thought before he drifted off was that Carson had given him something a lot stronger than he was used to.

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><p>Carson sat in his office that evening, shaking his head as he read the announcement that had the entire city in a stir. Colonel Sheppard had been relieved of command and replaced, for the moment, by Colonel Caldwell. Atlantis's rumor mill was running wild, and he had heard several different versions of the 'real story' already.<p>

Some said that Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir had a massive shouting match in her office. Other people seemed to think that he had punched Colonel Caldwell in the face. That one made him laugh. Still others, remembering the last time it had happened, were positive that Colonel Sheppard was turning into a bug again. This particular rumor didn't make Carson smile, he still felt his share of guilt for the hell that his friend had gone through, due in no small part to him. Wanting to know the truth of it he prepared to send a message to Dr. Weir asking to see her, only to hear a knock at the door of his office. Walking over, he saw her at his door.

"Speak of the devil," he laughed, "Here I was about to send a message." Shaking his head, her let her in, closing the door behind them.

"I trust you have seen the announcement then." She said dryly.

"Aye, and heard the rumors. I am going to assume since he was unscathed when he walked in earlier that he did not, in fact, punch Colonel Caldwell in the face."

She smiled, "No."

"And I know for myself that he is not turning into a bug again. So that rules out two of the rumors I have heard."

"I thought you would like to hear the truth of it."

"I would."

"I took your suggestion about the psych evaluations and counseling, and told Colonel Sheppard that unless he submitted to them he would be taken from active duty and relieved of command."

"And he still refused. Stubborn bugger," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Not that I am entirely surprised, he won't open up to anyone, let alone a psychiatrist."

"Unless he does it is almost certain that he will have to return to Earth with the Daedalus. I think he knows this, but he still won't see Heightmeyer." She rested her head in her hands, not afraid to show her grief and weariness in front of Carson.

"I don't want to lose him to. Without Rodney running Atlantis will be nearly impossible. Without John I think it will be even worse. Even without his gene, his half-brained, reckless plans have saved us on to many occasions for me to feel entirely safe without him here."

"I know love, but we'll manage, somehow. We have to believe that."

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><p><strong>AN: So, what did you think?**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok, the next chapter is up, hope you guys like it. The story is beginning to pick up and hopefully by chapter five the whumpaholics will have a little something to enjoy. This one is a little short but I didn't want to pad it out with empty words.**

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><p><em>It's easier to run<em>

_Replacing this pain with something numb_

_It's so much easier to run_

_Then face all this pain here all alone_

Easier to Run (Linkin Park)

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><p>John woke with a start. Rolling over he looked at the clock, it was 2.30am, the city was asleep save for a skeleton crew in the gate room. Realizing he wasn't going back to sleep tonight, he decided that a run was in order. Pulling on his boots and checking to make sure he had his radio on him, he walked silently out of his room, heading for the east pier. It was a long run, but without Ronon he could take it a little slower than usual. As he kept up the steady pace he found himself thinking.<p>

He replayed the previous days events over and over, reviewing them with a harsh eye. Everywhere he saw fear and distrust on peoples faces, on some there was even loathing. What he hated the most was the scornful and accusing looks on the faces of the military men, the men he had once commanded.

Their stares cut deep, and he realized that if he passed the test with flying colors, he would never be in command again. He didn't think he would even be sent on missions anymore, if the soldiers couldn't trust him then there was no way anyone would want him on their team. Even if he went back to Earth, which was seeming more and more likely, he knew that the rumors would follow. His reputation on earth was not very good to start with, men had died under his command, his commanding officers said he had a problem with authority, and the rumor of a civilian dead under his command, by his own hand at that, would be the final nail in the coffin of his military career.

And rightly so, he couldn't even trust himself to keep his best friend alive. Suddenly the ever present grief surged within him and he fought for control, barely able to breath through the pain that threatened to choke him, driving him to his knees as the loss and emptiness and all consuming _guilt_ washed over him. He struggled with himself, barely winning the battle to remain silent, and forced himself to get a grip, trying to push the painful feelings and memories away, drowning in a pool of loneliness and a self loathing so intense that for a moment he wanted nothing more than to cast himself off the pier and let the waves take him, but that is not an option.

He was to damn stubborn, to defiant and proud, and although he would never hesitate to lay down his life if it could help save even one other person, he would never take it willingly. Taking a few shaky breaths, he calmed himself down, feeling empty inside, the agonizing feelings receding and leaving only numbness in their wake. At least with the numbness he could still think and function.

And then he realized that even if by some miracle he was allowed to stay in the military with people that still liked and respected him, he wouldn't do it. He was damaged goods, years of bad memories and personal demons threatening to make him lose control at any moment. What if he broke down on a wraith ship? Or in the middle of negotiations?

There was only one viable choice left to him, He would resign from the military. He couldn't trust himself to do the job anymore.

He couldn't go back to Dad and Dave, they had both sworn to have nothing to do with him after he left to join the air force, and the black mark in Afghanistan had only widened the gap between them, besides, mild mannered business man was not a role he thought he could play.

He briefly toyed with the idea of flying commercial aircraft, but going from helicopters and puddle jumpers to Cessna and 727s would just be too painful. Better to kiss the skies farewell than to tie himself to such graceless machines.

As he reached the pier he realized that he had drawn a blank. All he had ever wanted to be was a military pilot, when he had joined blackops it became something else he lived for, not just the combat, but the feeling of _doing _something truly meaningful.

Landing in Atlantis had been a dream come true, and although he regretted many of his decisions (he would never get over Sumner's death and Rodney's had reopened so many old wounds he didn't think he would ever be whole again), if he could go back, he would still have gone through that gate.

It wasn't being in command, he had never had aspirations towards power, it was leading a team, making even more of a difference than he could have imagined in blackops, blowing up wraith ships or just finalizing a trade deal to keep the city fed. It was having somewhere where he felt he truly belonged.

There was nowhere else where he could truly fit in, he would feel like an outcast wherever he went, the scars of his past baring him from anything resembling normal. The image of himself coming home from a day at the office with suit and tie to a tidy home with a white picket fence, an attractive wife and 2.4 kids made him laugh sadly. The American dream did not include nightmares so vivid that you woke up screaming every night, leaving you so scared it took you a moment to realize it wasn't real, or scars from iratus bugs, or the mark on his chest from where a wraith had nearly drained him dry. It didn't include cities that responded to your every thought, ships that you flew with your mind or wormhole travel to another planet.

He knew now that if he went back to earth, regardless of whether or not he passed the initial psych evaluation that he knew the SGC would force him into, he would most likely end up in the padded cell, whether because he failed or because he slowly drove himself insane trying to live _normally_.

That was no kind of life, drugged and restrained. Despite the white walls and kind staff a psych ward was as much of a prison as any of the rat infested dungeons he had found himself in on far too many occasions. Worse even.

Coming to an impulsive decision he realized it was the only option. He would not surrender himself to one of those places to have his feeling, his memories, his very soul torn out of him. The memories may be painful, the feelings may be pure agony but they are _his_ memories. _HIS _feelings. And he would never let himself forget.

Better if he just disappeared. Better for everyone, Elizabeth would not have to struggle with her conscience at sending him away, Teyla would not have to suffer through his awkward conversations, Ronon would not have to avoid him, Caldwell would not have to deal with him, and Carson would not have to mother him.

Thoughts of blessed escape ran through his mind, whispering to the city what he needed. He was hidden from the sensors, all but invisible unless someone saw him, and at 3.30 in the morning who was awake? No one else in the city would be able to do this, Atlantis didn't trust anyone else as she trusted John.

Silently running through the halls he knew the surveillance cameras would pick him up, but Atlantis was helpfully deleting the footage. As he reached the armory, the doors opened. He wandered through, trying to decide what to take.

Finally he decided just to take a wraith stunner pistol and a k-bar knife. Anything else would need ammo, and the stunner should be able to take care of anything he would run across. He also grabbed a TAC vest, he was certain it would come in handy.

He walked into the gate room, immediately stunning the marine standing guard, then the two gate techs who could only look at him in shock. He checked to make sure they were ok, feeling bad that he had stunned them, but he knew they would have tried to stop him, and he couldn't afford to be stopped now.

Rumaging around near the consoles he found a pen and paper and scrawled a brief note, folding it and leaving it on the console. With a last regretful sigh he lifted his dog tags over his head and placed them on top of the note. Entering his security code he chose the address, an uninhabited planet, and dialed the gate.

Staring into the event horizon, he felt sorrow threaten to choke him, he was walking away from the only home he had ever known.

_Don't go, please._

_I have to._

_If you leave, you will never come back to me!_

_I know. I am sorry Atlantis._

He felt the city's grief, few realized just how sentient Atlantis was, but he also felt her acceptance. Walking towards the gate, he prepared to enter the event horizon.

_I will miss you._

_Me too, _He thought sadly, _Let Elizabeth know the gate techs are down please._

_I will. Goodbye, John._

_Goodbye, Atlantis._

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><p><strong>AN: Reviewers get candy**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have delayed uploading this chapter because it feels a little weak to me, but with chapter five already written and chater six halfway there, I either have to post it or rewrite it, and I want to keep this story moving. So bear with this chapter, cause the next one has some action in it.**

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><p><em>All the scars that never heal<em>

_All the wounds that will not seal_

_I will not forget the day_

_These memories never fall_

Won't Back Down (Fuel)

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><p>Elizabeth sat up in bed, confused. Something had woken her up at this ungodly hour of the morning. Looking around her quarters she realized that the lights were pulsing slightly. Tilting her head she walked over to the control panel to see if there was any reason for them to be doing that. She jumped in fright as she heard a faint voice echoing in her head.<p>

_Dr. Weir_

"Who is this?" she asked aloud, her voice wary.

_I am Atlantis, I would not normally contact you this way, you don't have the gene and it is... difficult. But he asked me to tell you that the gate technicians and marine on duty are down, stunned._

"He? Who asked you?"

_The one you call Sheppard_

Elizabeth suddenly had a very bad feeling. Hoping someone was pulling some kind of prank she picked up her radio.

"Control room this is Weir, is everything alright in there?" No answer.

"Control room this is Weir, do you copy?"

She waited a moment, before radioing base security. "Security this is Weir."

"Go ahead Dr. Weir."

"I can't get a response from the control room, can you send someone to have a look?"

"Copy that Dr. Weir, sending someone now."

She waited nervously, and her radio burst into life again.

"Dr. Weir, the gate techs and the marine on duty have been stunned. It appears to be a wraith stunner, but there doesn't appear to have been an offworld activation."

"I am on my way. Weir out."

She pulled on her uniform in a hurry, rushing out the door. When she got to the gate room the first thing she saw was a set of dog tags and a note. Not trusting herself to examine either yet she asked, "What happened here?" She was pleased to note that her voice does not shake, she wished she could say the same of her hands, but at least no one could see those.

"Someone activated the gate. The address dialed is one from our databases, it is a small, uninhabited planet but the air is breathable." replied the lieutenant in charge.

"Can you tell who dialed it?" She asked, although she already knew what the answer would be.

"Yes, give me a moment," she closed her eyes briefly as the lieutenant, Forbes she remembered, typed, "It says it was Colonel Sheppard." Forbes is clearly puzzled.

"Bring up the security footage."

"It appears to have been deleted."

"Then bring up the backup cameras. They were installed last time the city decided to get glitchy on us." The cameras ran on a separate power source and were in no way connected to Atlantis. It took a few for Forbes to access them.

What they showed was Sheppard entering the gate room, a wraith stunner in his hand. He shot the marine first, then the two gate techs, before looking around the consoles for something. She watched as he wrote a note, folding it and placing it on the console, followed by his dog tags, before he dialed the gate and walked into the vent horizon. He never looked back.

She swallowed past a painful throat and picked up the note and dog tags, "Colonel Caldwell will need to be informed. You should probably let Major Lorne know as well."

"Yes ma'am." The lieutenant said, already on his radio.

Elizabeth walked into her office, shutting the door behind her, and sat in the most private corner. Finally mustering the courage to look at the note, she saw written on the outside, 'For Doctor Weir'.

With a sigh she opened it, reading the contents.

_Elizabeth_

_I am sorry. I can no longer perform my duties, but I will not go back to earth._

_There is nothing there for me anymore, there never really was._

_Thank you for giving me a chance here._

_Please don't tell my family what I did, they think I am enough a screwup already._

_PS. Put another man on gate duty for the nightshift. It's a security risk._

_John._

She folded the note closed again, a single tear escaping and falling down her cheek. She dashed it away with her hand. Taking both the note and the dog tags she placed them in her pocket. Sitting at her desk for a few moments, she waited.

he didn't have to wait long, as both Colonel Caldwell and Major Lorne were at her door in fifteen minutes, wearing there uniforms and looking wide awake.

"Come in." She said wearily, wishing she was as awake as they looked.

"At approximately 4:07 am this morning Colonel Sheppard entered the gate room, stunned the marine on duty and the two gate techs. He then dialed the gate, and walked through the event horizon. By all indications he does not intend to come back willingly."

Caldwell looked angry. "I will arrange a team to go to the address he dialed and search for him, although I doubt he is still there. The first thing he would have done is dialed another address. He will most likely go through several more planets before he stops. Our best bet would be to ask our allies to inform us if he makes contact."

"I agree." said Elizabeth.

Caldwell turned to Major Lorne, "Major, you will be responsible for organizing the search effort. You know Sheppard better than I do, you have a better chance at guessing his intentions."

"Yes sir," Lorne nodded, "I will do my best."

"Very good."

Taking that as his queue to leave, Lorne walked out, already radioing the members of his team and telling them to prepare to go through the gate.

Caldwell turned to Elizabeth, barely controlling his anger at Colonel Sheppard.

"I did not expect this." He stated simply.

"Nor did I," she replied, "I expected something, but to leave..."

"To _desert_." Caldwell corrected, his tone icy.

"I don't think anyone would have suspected that he would do that. I probably should have though." When Caldwell looked at her questioningly she continued.

"Colonel Sheppard is... _stubborn_. If he was going to leave Atlantis, it would be under his terms, and he has stated previously that he feels there is nothing for him back on Earth. He would not have wanted to return. From his view this was probably the only viable option," when Caldwell looked furious she added, "Look, I am not defending his actions, merely stating why he may have thought them necessary. I guess we'll never know."

"We will if we bring him back." Caldwell stated, determined. He was going to ensure that Sheppard was punished for his desertion.

"Do you honestly think we're going to find him if he goes out of his way not to be found?"

Caldwell sighed, "I don't know. I'll say one thing for the man, he is determined."

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><p>John exited the gate, arriving at one of the larger trading worlds in Pegasus. It was around midmorning here, and already the roads into the city closest to the gate were clogged with traffic. Traders led various beasts of burden, laden down with goods from food to weapons and he even spotted some things that looked suspiciously like Ancient tech. There was a riot of color as people from at least a hundred different worlds streamed into the marketplace, some looking for food, some looking for luxury goods, some obviously looking for trouble. It was easy to lose himself in the crowd as it went through the city gates.<p>

Ducking into a side street to give himself some time to thing, he realized that he was probably going to need some money, and that meant he needed to find a job. Walking into the market square he spotted a trader who was buying items off people, a strange mixture of weapons, jewelry and, to John's satisfaction, medical supplies. Digging an unopened bottle of Tylenol from one of the pockets on his TAC vest he walked up to the man.

"Hi," he said, "How much would you say this is worth?"

The trader took in his clothing, the Wraith stunner on his hip and the tactical knife strapped to his thigh, and thought better off cheating this particular offworlder.

"Tylenol..." he sounded out, "I have traded a few bottles of this before, not very strong but it does the job. I can give you three silvers for it."

"And what will three silvers get me?" John asked curiously.

"Most taverns charge a silver for a night's lodging. The price is fair, I would not cheat anyone," at John's sceptic al look he added, "Well, I would not cheat _you_, no offence, but you look a little dangerous."

"We have a deal then." John agreed, handing over the bottle for three silver coins, about the size of bottle caps.

Pocketing the coins, he walked around with an alert eye, watching for pickpockets. This place was a thief's dream, a steady flow of customers from different worlds who may never notice that there items were missing until they got back to there own planet. Wandering to the edges of the market square he saw several taverns, but they all seemed very busy, and looked _very_ expensive, and he assumed these were the taverns marketed towards rich offworlders who didn't mind paying three times what they had to.

Finally, he spied one down a side street that looked about right. It was not as large or as well decorated as the ones in the main square, and it certainly wasn't as busy, but it looked clean and well kept. Walking inside he noted a few people, workers by the looks of them, enjoying an early lunch. The place had an air of cheerfulness that the larger places didn't, the owner joking with the patrons as he served them.

Sitting at one of the many empty tables, he decided that he should probably eat something. He had skipped dinner the night before, come to think of it, he had skipped breakfast and lunch to.

The owner walked over to his, a pad of paper in hand. He was short and stout, with a round, open face framed by slightly overlong light brown hair and a scruffy looking beard.

"What can I get you?" He asked.

"What do you have?" John countered.

"We have freshly baked bread, cold roasted nagi and bean soup."

"I'll have some bread and the bean soup thanks." He had eaten nagi before, and it was not unpleasant, a sort of cross between beef and goat, but he despite the fact he was hungry he still didn't have much of an appetite.

"And to drink? We have chilled water, ale and a large selection of juices."

"I'll just have some water."

"Sure." The man scurried into the kitchen, returning with a bowl of soup, a large hunk of bread and a glass of cold water.

"Here you go. If you don't mind me asking, why come here and not go to one of the larger eating houses. I am glad of the custom, but most offworlders prefer them."

John gave a small smile, "To loud for me, this place is more to my taste."

The owner chuckled, "Business picks up at sundown, after the workers get off," He held out his hand to shake with a smile, "The name's Torsan."

John shook it with a polite smile, "Shep." He didn't think it prudent to go around using his real name, and his air force buddies' old nickname for him would serve as well as anything.

"Well, enjoy your meal Shep. Just pay up at the counter when you're done."

John took a spoonful of soup, surprised at how hungry he actually was. He had finished the bowl and used the bread to mop up what was left in no time. Feeling properly full for the first time in a while, he stood and walked to the counter.

Torsan appeared with the ever present smile on his face. "That'll be two coppers." He said cheerfully.

John handed over one of the silver coins, and got 8 back, confirming his suspicions at how the money system worked.

"Tell me," he said to Torsan, "Do you rent rooms?"

"Why yes, they are five coppers a night." This was far cheaper than the one silver quoted by the trader, and John was happy to pay it. This place seemed like as good a place as any to stay, at least for now.

"I'll be happy to rent one then," he said, "I wonder if you could help me out some more."

"What do you need?" asked Torsan.

"Could you tell me where a man might find work?"

"What sort of work?"

"Farming, wood chopping, physical work." It didn't really matter what he did, so long as he had enough to keep a roof over his head.

"Pardon me saying it, but you look like you've been in military service recently."

"Something like that." he conceded.

"In that case you might want to talk to a man by the name of Shallag, he runs caravans from several nearby cities to here, and he is always looking to hire more guards. If you can shoot straight he'll be happy to have you. If you can't, he'll still take you on board, but as he is so fond of saying, 'dead men don't get paid.'"

John's lips twitched with something like a laugh, "I will definitely talk to him." he ensured the man.

"He's in here most nights when he's not traveling, he should be in tonight, so you won't even have to look for him."

"Perfect." John said.

"I'll show you to your room then." Torsan led him up the stairs and opened a door to a small yet comfortable looking room.

"This will do nicely." John said.

"Wonderful! I will leave you to it then."

Sitting down on the moderately comfortable mattress he continued his inspection of his temporary lodgings. The bed was clean and freshly made, there was a small hearth and a dresser, with a door leading to a small bathroom that had a toilet, sink and even what looked to be a shower. He had not expected indoor plumbing but was pleasantly surprised.

He smiled briefly at the thought of what Rodney would have had to say about the room, _tiny, the mattress probably has bugs in it, the plumbing is probably made of lead so don't go drinking the water, and I shudder to think what kind of alien rats are living in the walls._

His heart hurt with longing, he would give anything just to hear his friends complaints, even if they had usually gotten them in a lot of trouble on missions. Rodney had somehow managed to insult nearly everyone he came across without even meaning to, and when he actually _wanted _to insult someone it was even worse.

A memory made him smile sadly, they had been negotiating a trade deal with a village on another planet, drinking mugs of foul tasting tea to seal the deal, a custom of the planet. Rodney had taken one sip of the tea before spluttering and launching into a rant insulting the villager's, there cooking, customs, religion and hygiene in one breath. Things had not gone well after that, and they had been forced to make a run for the gate with half the village on there heels.

He forced himself not the think about such things, the memories, once amusing, were now poisoned with grief and shame. In an attempt to distract himself he started playing a game of _Prime, not prime_ in his head, before realizing that there was no point, he had always played just to annoy Rodney, who thought it was unfair that he be a flyboy and a math geek at the same time.

Chess moves were out, as were all of the other mind games he had always played with Rodney. While the man complained vigorously about Lieutenant Colonels who hid there inner geek John knew that he had been delighted to have someone who could keep up with him, at least some of the time.

Desperate for something to distract himself that didn't involve math, or movies, or comic books, or any of the things he had shared with his best friend, he dropped down and did push ups until he was dripping in sweat, the physical strain obliterating thought as he had intended it to. He felt a sense of grim satisfaction, finally, something that did not bring up painful memories, he could, if only temporarily, forget the pain and the guilt.

He shook his head at himself, amused. If this was the only way to get relief from his memories he was going to be a very fit man.

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><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think, I may rewrite this one at some point but currently it's the only way to move the story onwards.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: First things first, sorry this took so long to upload but real life decided to kick me in the ass again, and gale force winds knocked out power to twenty thousand homes in my area in the middle of winter. Fifty-three hours without power and subzero temperatures is no fun!****Thankfully it's back now, and I have been able to polish off this chapter for you all. Thanks to anyone who subscribes, and reviewers are angels in disguise. So please, let me know what you think!**

**Anyways, enough of my personal ramblings, in this chapter things pick up a little more, and there is a lot of whump coming in the next one!**

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><p><em>And I don't want the world to see me<em>

_'Cause I don't think that they'd understand_

Iris (Goo Goo Dolls)

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><p><em>Three months later<em>

Major Lorne walked out of the stargate and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the midday sun, hearing his team exiting after him before the gate disengaged. They quickly moved away from the gate, this planet was busy and the last thing anyone wanted was to be in the path of the unstable vortex if someone else dialed in.

It was a fairly routine mission, this was one of the larger trading planets, and a good place to find new trade partners. With the Daedalus making runs between Earth and Atlantis they were well stocked with food and medical supplies, but it never hurt to have other options. Occasionally they came across planets with technologies equal to or even better than Earth's, although they were few and far between in a galaxy where being technologically advanced was the fastest way to get your entire planet destroyed by the wraith. There orders were simple, take a look, see if you can spot any technology worth trading for, if not, try and negotiate a deal for additional supplies of some of Pegasus's more edible foods.

Turning to make sure his team was following, he started down the well established road into the city, which, as always, was teaming with traders from at least a hundred different worlds. Lorne had been here three times before, and each time it had been just as busy. Entire worlds could be destroyed, but people would still flock to this planet to trade.

He suddenly became aware that Dr. Zelenka had stopped, muttering in Czech as he read something on his scanner. Normally Zelenka wasn't part of his team, but had come along today incase they found any interesting technology.

"What is it Zelenka?"

"I am picking up a reading."

"What kind of reading, weird energy signature? Interference?"

"No, it seems to be a subcutaneous transmitter," he pulled out his tablet, working for a few moments, before his eyes went wide with shock, "Belonging to Colonel Sheppard."

"Where is the reading coming from?" Lorne asked intently, not quite believing what he was hearing. It had been three months since Sheppard had left Atlantis. Lorne had been in charge of the search effort, Zelenka had been able to extract several addresses from the DHD on the planet Sheppard had gone to, and they had extracted several more from the DHD's of _those _planets, and so on. The end result was an astronomical list of possibilities, and, although they had searched some of the more likely ones, there was no sign of Sheppard.

The man had tried to disappear, and had done a very good job of it. Everyone still kept an ear to the ground for some hint of where there former CO was, but there hadn't been so much as a murmur, until today that was.

"It is coming from the city, I can pinpoint it when we get closer."

"Alright, move out people, keep your eyes open. If we see the Colonel let me talk to him before you try anything, I know we have been ordered to bring him in, but lets not rush into anything."

The two marines with him nodded vigorously, they knew as well as anyone that Sheppard could be a scary SOB sometimes.

When they got to the market square Zelenka pointed to a side street away from the main market area. "The reading is coming from that street."

"Right, eyes open people." Lorne said, leading them towards the street. As they got closer he noticed a thick crowd forming. The people looked excited and jovial, and he realized that they were, for the most part, locals from the planet as opposed to offworlders. He suspected that this part of the city wasn't somewhere where offworlders normally went. A grinning boy of about twelve nearly bumped into them, his smile revealing a missing front tooth in a face brimming with enthusiasm.

"Have you come to see the fight?" He asked cheerfully.

"Fight?" Lorne questioned.

"Yeah, Shep's gonna fight Kal, a really big guy, I mean _huge_, most people are betting on Kal but I think Shep's gonna win, he's a really great fighter even if he is kind of skinny and little, at least compared to Kal."

"Shep?"

"Yeah, he's a caravan guard who live in that tavern and works for Shallag, 'cept there's no caravans right now and he's bored so he's gonna fight Kal for bets."

"Is Shep a local?" Lorne asked, his eyes suspicious.

"Nah, he turned up a few months back looking for work and stuck around. No one knows where he's from. Come to think of it he kinda looks like you, you know, black uniform and funny jacket thingy." The kid was pointing to Lorne's TAC vest.

Lorne sighed. "Well then yes, I suppose we are here to watch 'Shep' fight."

The kid grinned again, "Cool!" and elbowed his way through the crowds, clearing a bit of a space so that Lorne could see the empty space in front of the tavern at the end of the street, about ten paces squared. He turned around and muttered to Zelenka and the marines, "I think it's probably best if we don't interfere unless we have to, the crowd is obviously expecting a fight and things could get ugly if we stopped it." The marines nodded.

A garrulous looking man walked out of the tavern and the crowd quieted a man addressed the crowd happily, grinning at the site of all the people around the tavern.

"As you have no doubt heard, judging by the fact that you're all outside my tavern, Shep and Kal are bored and have decided to entertain themselves, and us, with a friendly fight. Odds are agreed to be three to one in Kal's favor, so make sure your bets are placed!"

A few people bustled around making quick bets on the outcome. After the crowd had settled, the tavern door opened and two men walked out into the empty space. The first man was very large, at least 6"5, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. He was bulky and well muscled, stripped to the waist, his chest lightly covered with curling orange hair. His face was open and friendly despite his fearsome size, with curling orange hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.

The second man was John Sheppard, Lorne tensed slightly at the sight of his former CO.

Sheppard was also stripped to the waist, his ribs visible under a light layer of muscle. Lorne didn't remember Sheppard being that skinny, but he still seemed to be in reasonably good shape.

He could see why the smart money was on Kal. While Sheppard was no shrimp, he was simply dwarfed by the other man's size. Sheppard's body was supple, his muscles defined rather than bulky. Kal was built like a bear.

Lorne would still have bet on Sheppard though, had he been a betting man. While the other man may be huge and bulky, his face wasn't the face of a soldier. To Lorne he appeared nervous, while Sheppard radiated confidence.

The tavern owner stepped between the two.

"Right, you both know the rules. No strikes to the groin, no eye gouging, no trying to strangle each other. You win by knocking your opponent out or making him yield. Keep it friendly."

Both men nodded there agreement.

"Ok, ready, FIGHT!" He stepped out of the way quickly as Sheppard and Kal circled, eyeing each other warily. Although this was a friendly match for entertainment, both men were taking it seriously.

Kal rushed in, swinging his fist at Sheppard's side. Sheppard dodged out of the way nimbly, Kal was big, but he was also slow. Kal struck again, this time at head height, and again Sheppard dodged. Confident now that Sheppard seemed to be on the defensive, Kal rushed in, his arms open wide and attempted to grapple with his opponent, only to go flying as Sheppard hooked his leg out from underneath him, dancing back with a smile on his face and allowing the other man to get up.

Kal looked slightly annoyed at the trick, and circled again, warily this time. Sheppard went on the offensive, landing light strikes on Kal, more intended to surprise and provoke than to injure. Slightly disoriented by his opponents speed, Kal flailed about with his meaty fists, trying to land a hit. Though crude, this method was effective, as he got in a lucky strike on Sheppard's chest, and he backed away, winded by the blow. Kal looked concerned for a moment, but when Sheppard nodded to continue, he pressed his advantage, making the smaller man back up to avoid those powerful hits. Despite his best efforts and the other mans caution, he took several painful hits to his chest and shoulders.

Backed into a corner, he ducked an overhead strike and rolled away from Kal, provoking a cheer from the crowd at his unexpected move. As Sheppard moved in to deliver another light blow, Kal seized him in powerful arms, almost like a bear hug, and tried to wrestle him into a submission hold.

Sheppard was ready for this however, and, holding on to the other mans arms, moved in closer, and, with a quick twist, rolled the other man over the shoulder and into the hard packed earth with a loud thud. Taking advantage of the moment when his opponent was winded, he quickly put a fut to his chest, just below the throat.

Kal looked surprised for a few moments, before chuckling wryly.

"I yield Shep. Well played!"

Sheppard leaned down to help the larger man up, a small smile on his face as the crowd got over there shock and cheered at the unexpected result. Those who have be on Kal paid willingly, those who had bet on Sheppard were delighted.

Sheppard was talking to the man in charge of the bets, pocketing several silver coins.

Plastering a smile on his face he turned to the crowd that was just starting to disperse.

"First round's on me at the tavern tonight!" A hearty cheer went up at this.

As the crowd trickled out from the street, Sheppard spotted his unexpected audience, the grin melting off his face like butter. Kal had already entered the tavern and he reappeared having put his shirt back on and collected his things. Sheppard turned and clasped his arm, smiling once again as if everything was fine.

"See you around Kal."

"Sure thing Shep, Shallag's taking another caravan to Muros in a few days."

"I'll be there if I can."

As Kal left he walked up to Lorne and muttered quietly, "Inside."

Without another word he walked into the empty tavern. Lorne sighed, signaling to the marines and Zelenka to stay put, and followed Sheppard into the tavern.

Sheppard was standing at one of the empty tables, pulling his black t-shirt over his head, buttoning up the black BDU shirt over the top, followed by the TAC vest and a long coat that resembled Ronon's, except made entirely of dark brown leather. That done, he strapped on his weapons, the tactical knife in a sheath on his thigh and the wraith stunner holstered at his hip.

The tavern owner bustled in, his cheery face showing concern at Sheppard's grimness.

"What's up Shep?" he asked, eying Lorne curiously.

"Just having a chat with an old acquaintance," he said nonchalantly, smiling again, "Do you mind if I use one of the private dining rooms? I'd rather not be disturbed."

"Go ahead Shep. You know I don't mind as long as there's no one in there."

"Thanks." Still not saying anything to Lorne, he walked down a corridor and opened a door. Lorne, seeing no other choice, followed.

Once the door was closed, Sheppard's smiling mask was gone, his face bleak and his lips pursed, clearly trying to think about what to say, sitting down, he turned to Lorne, his eyes troubled.

"How did you find me?" He asked quietly.

"Your subcutaneous transmitter sir." Replied Lorne, also taking a seat at the table.

"Don't call me sir," he muttered automatically, "Damn. I should have thought about are things back on Atlantis?" His eyes were still troubled, but he was clearly eager for news of the city.

"Things are, different. Colonel Caldwell changed a lot of things after you... left. Teams got reshuffled a bit, security got boosted and fewer teams go offworld now."

"How are Teyla and Ronon?" Sheppard asked.

"They seem alright. Caldwell hasn't assigned either of them to a permanent team yet, instead he assigns them when he thinks a team needs some help. Teyla goes on diplomatic or first contact missions, Ronon goes on any mission where they need some fire support."

Sheppard nodded, seeming relieved that neither of his former team mates had left Atlantis. It had been a fear for many that with there former team falling to pieces one of both of the Pegasus natives may leave, but so far they had remained to help where they could.

Lorne grimaced, hating what he knew had to come next.

"Colonel Sheppard. I am afraid my orders are clear. I have to take you back to Atlantis."

Sheppard shifted uncomfortably, his eyes a mystery. "There's no other option?" He asked.

"Not if I want to keep my job sir." Lorne replied sadly.

Sheppard's eyes were sad. "Sorry Lorne." He apologized. Lorne was about to ask why he was apologizing when he saw a flash of blue and everything went dark.

John watched as Major Lorne slumped in his chair, holstering the wraith pistol. He really wished he hadn't had to stun Lorne, but he didn't have a choice. Lorne would have been forced to drag him back to Atlantis to be shipped back to Earth for court marshal, and he was never going to let that happen.

It wasn't that he didn't want to face up to his actions, he reminded himself every day what he had done, and what he had lost. Guilt was a constant companion, even more so than it had been before he shot Rodney, his smiles had never reached his eyes, and he had never told even his closest friends anything bout his past, to afraid that they would look at him with disgust, or worse, pity. It was worse now, there were no smiles to hide behind because he didn't smile anymore. There were no friends to hold at arms length because he no longer had any friends. Instead he shouldered his burden alone, as he had always done, even when it threatened to crush him into the ground.

He knew no punishment that he would be slammed with after his court marshall could possibly absolve him of his actions, and he could not return to Earth to hide behind false smiles and empty words. He just wished he could make his former friends understand that, wished he didn't have to run, but he knew that they would never let him stay.

Poking his head out of the private dining room, he caught Torsan's eye and beckoned him over, out of sight of the windows.

"My friend is... sleeping. I am afraid I have to leave this planet. Tonight."

Torsan sighed. "I thought that might be the case Shep." He held out his hand to shake, John took it with a genuine smile. He had been content, if not happy here. He very much doubted he would ever truly be happy again, so contentment was as good as it got.

Pulling out a few silver coins he handed them to Torsan.

"Buy everyone a round on me tonight Torsan."

"I will Shep."

John hesitated, really hating what he was about to do to himself, but there was no other way. The second he walked out of this tavern he would have Zelenka and two marines on his tail, and he didn't want to have to deal with them. There was only one way to make his escape wihout being tracked.

"Torsan, I need one more favor. Could you bring me a bowl of boiling water and some linen? Bandages if you have them? And some tweezers if possible."

"Sure. Why?"

John's eyes clouded over. "I don't think you really want to know Torsan, let's just say it's not going to be entirely pleasant. It is necessary however."

"Is this something you should see a physician about?" Torsan asked with concern.

"Probably," John said wryly, "But that's not an option."

Torsan sighed, "I'll go and get you what you need now then."

John waited a few moments before Torsan returned with the water and a couple of bandages.

"Thank you Torsan. You probably don't want to watch what I am about to do."

Torsan grimaced, "I think you're right."

As Torsan left he washed his hands and pulled out the lighter he always carried and his knife, holding the flame against the blade. When the blade was hot he dipped it into the bowl of water, cooling it. _You're insane_ said the voice in his head that sounded like Rodney, _Even if you manage to survive you're little DIY surgery Carson is going to kill you. _Shaking his head he ignored the voice, what Carson didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

He took one of the bandages and bound his left arm just past the shoulder, dipping another into the water he washed the area under the makeshift tourniquet.

Feeling around for the slight bump underneath his skin, he located in and memorized it's position. Steeling himself, he picked up the knife in his right hand and pressed it against his flesh, making a small yet deep incision, hissing with pain. Fighting the revulsion and shock of what he was doing, he pulled apart the skin on either side of the incision, opening it so that he could see into it. With a grunt of relief and triumph he saw the glimmer of the subcutaneous transmitter.

Aware he had to act quickly before he lost his nerve, he picked up the tweezers and gently inserted them into the wound, wincing when he scraped the sides, he had the sudden, absurd memory of playing _Operation_ as a kid and had to smother a hysterical laugh.

Carefully he guided the tweezers to the transmitter. Gripping it firmly, he pulled it out slowly, beads of sweat forming on his brow. The wound was burning fiercely, and the pain made him dizzy as he bit his lip to keep from screaming.

At last it was out, and he dropped it into the bowl of water, rinsing off the blood, and, with a grimace, tissue. Working quickly he bound the incision, removing the upper he was satisfied that the bleeding would be stopped he allowed himself to relax, taking a shaky breath.

Washing the knife and sterilizing it with the flame once more, he slid it back into it's sheath and did the same for the tweezers, drying them off with the spare bandage. Pulling the transmitter out, he considered stepping on it, deciding against it. If it stopped transmitting Zelenka would notice and probably come in to see what had happened. Making a decision he left it on the table next to Lorne, along with a note.

_Sorry I had to stun you Lorne._

Leaving notes was becoming a habit.

Gathering the things Torsan had given him, he returned the tweezers and cleaned the bowl, returning them to Torsan.

"Thank you Torsan. I have to leave now I'm afraid."

"I know. Take care of yourself John."

"I'll try Torsan. Goodbye."

Dr. Zelenka was worried. Major Lorne and Colonel Sheppard had been inside the tavern for an hour now.

"I think we should check on Major Lorne," He said to the marines, "They have been in there a long time."

"Let's try him on the radio first," said the first marine, tapping his radio "Major Lorne, is everything alright in there? Major?"

No response. "Ok, we're going in."

They walked into the tavern, the tavern keeper walking over to them looking worried.

"I was hoping you would come in soon. Your friend has been stunned."

"Who stunned him?" Zelenka asked.

"I think it was Shep, he left soon afterwards."

"He left?"

"Yeah, about half an hour ago."

The second marine cut in, "Can you show us where our friend is?"

"Sure, this way." He opened the door to a private room.

Inside Lorne was slumped in a chair. Zelenka hurried over and checked his pulse. "The tavern owner is right. Major Lorne has been stunned."

He looked around the room, spotting something small next to Lorne. Picking it up, he realized it was Sheppard's subcutaneous transmitter. With a sick feeling he realized that Sheppard must have cut into his own arm to remove it.

He sighed and turned to the marines.

"Sheppard is long gone, and he no longer has his transmitter. I think we should take Major Lorne and go back through the gate to notify Atlantis."

"Agreed," said the first marine, "We're not going to find him, he has had plenty of time to make his escape and leave the planet."

Zelenka sighed with regret, "We were so close."

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><p><strong>AN: Go on, press the review button, you know you want to!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I decided to post this one a day after the last one to apologise for being unable to update when I lost power, and because the story is coming along well and I am still a little ahead of schedule. Next chapter should be up either tommorow or the day after. **

**Finally the whumpage! Sheppard's not going to like what I have instore for him in this chapter. Old enemies are so much fun!**

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><p><em>Where do I take this pain of mine?<em>

_I run but it stays right by my side_

Until it Sleeps (Metallica)

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><p><em>Five months later<em>

The sun was sinking below the treeline, golden light piercing the trees and the shadows. John squinted, raising the axe and splitting the last log of the day, sighing with relief His arms felt like jelly after an entire day chopping wood, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into a warm bed and go to sleep. Since Major Lorne and his team had found him he had never stayed on one planet for more than a week or so, drifting between worlds doing physical labor in return for coins, or, if the planet had no currency, a warm place to sleep and some food. He would be the first to admit that it wasn't an easy or enjoyable life, but he couldn't bring himself to settle down. Nowhere felt like home, so he remained homeless. The only good thing about the situation was that he was often to exhausted from the work to dwell on bad memories, some days he could even smile. Today was not one of those days however, though his entire body screamed for rest, he still felt the memories threatening to choke him. On such days the only way he could get any sleep was to drink himself into insensibility.

He hated acting like a drunk, hated having to rely on the alcohol to sleep without waking up screaming from nightmares, but it was either that or spend a night smothered by th grief and guilt, slowly feeling his mind begin to slip under the weight of memory and emotion. The memories were with his all the time now, Holland, Dex, Mitch, Sumner, Ford, countless others and now Rodney, every time he closed his eyes he saw them.

Shrugging at himself he turned in his last pile of logs to the man who had hired him, recieving a few coins in return. It wasn't much, but it would by him a bed at the tavern, a hunk of bread and enough tankards of booze to knock him out.

Walking into the tavern he plonked himself at the bar, the barkeeper looking at him sourly. This was the fourth night he had stayed in this tavern, two of the previous nights he had passed out at the bar, and he was pretty sure he had overstayed his welcome. He would leave this planet tommorow.

Ordering some bread and a tankard of the local alcohol, he chewed the bread reluctantly. He didn't have much of an appetite most of the time, but he was already losing far to much weight. Draining the tankard, he ordered another. The barkeeper grumbled something about drunken vagabonds, but he was happy to take John's money.

John was about to drink his fourth tankard when he felt someone move behind him. About to turn, he felt a cold feeling on the back of his head, he may have been a little tipsy, but he had enough wits to know what the feeling was, and he went perfectly still, his mind racing. Finaly, he opened his mouth and adressed the person holding him at gunpoint.

"I'd appreciate it if you waited until _after_ I had drunk this tankard to blow my brains all over the bar. I paid half a copper for it, and it would be a terrible waste of terrible booze if I weren't allowed to enjoy it."

"By all means go ahead Sheppard," said a horribly familiar voice behind him, "I would hate for you to waste your half copper."

John felt a flash of pain in his chest, the voice bringing back some of his worst memories, fear and hatred overwhelming the grief and shame in all there strength.

"Kolya!" He spat out.

"Very good Sheppard, you're not as drunk as I thought you were."

He felt a sudded starburst of pain behind his left ear and everything went dark.

John awoke to the worst hangover he had ever had, thought was obliterated as his blood roared in his ears, every pulse spiking fresh agony until he wished his heart would just stop beating so he wouldn't have to hear his blood surging. The left side of his head was one big hurt, and he wonders why for a moment, before he remembers the smooth, hated voice and the pain of being pistol whiped. The reality hits him that he has been captured by Kolya, _again_, and that this time there is not even the faintest hope of rescue. Hoplelessness washed over him, despair dragged him down, fear tore at him, grief and guilt, his constant tormentors, stayed beside him, watching as he drowned in a sea of emotions. Ye through all this anger burned in his heart. Anger at the man who had tried to take his city, tried to kill his friends, tortured him without mercy or regret, feeding him to a wraith and watching as it ripped _decades_ away from him.

And the anger felt good. For so long he had been empty and hollow, his heart ripped out by sorrow and pain. With rage coursing through his veins, he felt alive for the first time in a long time. Grimacing past his hangover, he sat up and opened his eyes, he would not let Kolya see him beaten.

The first thing he noticed was that his hands were bound in front of him, and that he was in a dusty cell, three walls made of solid stone and one made of iron bars, affording him no privacy whatsoever, a straw stuffed pallet in one corner and a bucket for waste the only comforts, and a small barred window in the back wall letting in the dying light of evening, his TAC vest was gone. The second thing he noticed was the heat. It beat down upon him like a hammer, drawing the moisture from his body at an alarming rate. The cracked feeling of his lips and the dryness of the air brough back memories of another dry desert on earth, unwelcome memories. Things had not gone well in Afghanistan. Then again, when had things ever gone well for him.

His musings were interupted by the sound of booted feet, and he stood, straightening his back and holding his head high, turning to stare through the open bars at his captor. He was aware that he didn't exactly look intimidating, his black BDU's were stained, rumpled and torn, underneath the shirt and t-shirt he wore he knew his ribs were all too visible, his face guant and scruffy after a day or two of not shaving. More than that, there were dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He was a mess, but he still faced Kolya with hate and defiance in his eyes.

"Ah Sheppard, I see you are awake. Good, I don't want you to be wasting our time together with sleep."

"Cut to the chase Kolya," He rasped, his throat dry, "What do you want from me? Obviously you know I am no longer part of the Atlantis expedition, you won't even be able to trade me for a god damned paperclip!"

Kolya chuckled darkly. "Yes, I know all about the _incidents _that lead to you fleeing Atlantis. even if I could trade you though, I wouldn't, you are far to valuable to be swapped for some C4, or even a Jumper."

John beamed at Kolya, "Well, I am very flattered. But of what possilbe worth could I be of to you?"

Kolya stared directly into John's eyes, a stare of such malice and sadistic intent that it made John sick to his stomach. "Entertainment, Sheppard. I Still have not fully repaid you for the deaths of sixty of my soldiers. Believe me, you will suffer for every man of mine you ever killed, then you will suffer for everything else that I feel you deserve to suffer for. When we have run out of things to punish you for, I will make you suffer just for the fun of it."

His eyes danced evily, "I will enjoy breaking you're spirit, John Sheppard. If I enjoy it enough I may even reward you by letting you die."

John met his gaze unflinchingly, refusing to let Kolya know that he was afraid. He could admit to himself that he was absolutely terrified, he knew what a sadistic bastard Kolya was, and the prospect of being kept alive just to be tortured for the man's enjoyment was beyond horrific. But he would not let Kolya break him.

Kolya picked up a canteen of water and tossed it into the cell. "Drink that," He said flatly, "I will not let you die from dehydration and spoil all my entertainment."

"You're too kind." John snapped, taking a long sip of warm water.

"I'll leave you to enjoy your cell Sheppard. You would be wise to rest while you can, your punishment begins tommorow morning."

Without another word he walked away. As soon as he was out of sigth, John sat heavily, taking another sip from the canteen, and sighed.

He wasn't getting out of this one, even if someone still cared enough to rescue him, no one knew where he was. Even if there was another starving wraith in a cell next to him, he would not be allowed to escape again. His luck had well and truly deserted him this time.

_Yep, you are 100% screwed Sheppard, he's going to torture you until the day you die._

_No shit McKay, tell me something I don't know, _he thought back at the voice in his head, realizing a second to late that acknowledging it wasn't the best idea, and wondering, not for the first time, if he was really losing it. Certainly if anyone knew he was arguing with his dead friend inside his head they would assume he was crazy, and he wasn't so sure that he wasn't anymore.

With a sigh he lay down on the pallet. Crazy or not it didn't really matter here, he was pretty sure that Kolya would eventually drive him insane anyway.

He woke with a start as he heard footsteps outside his cell, sitting up to watch warily as Kolya ordered the door opened. He might have considered escape if it weren't for the two triple barreled shotguns aimed at his chest by two of the four guards, as it was, he stood without a word, his face calm, he just wished he felt as calm as he looked. The two guards that weren't aiming weapons at him walked into the cell and seized him roughly by the shoulders, dragging him out of his cell. Defiantly he shook himself out of there hold, standing on his own two feet, "I'll walk thankyou." he said proudly.

The two guards looked at Kolya, who nodded, "Very well Sheppard, but if you attempt to escape I will order one of the guards to put a bullet in your kneecap."

John merely nodded and followed Kolya as he opened a door into a seperate room.

Walking through the door, John felt his pulse begin to race. It was a large room, in one corner there was a chair bolted to the floor and fitted with restraints, In another there were chains hanging from the ceiling and shackles on the floor, the third corner had a table like contraption also fitted with restraints, and the fourth corner was devoted to shelves displaying a wide range of unpleasentness, whips, knives and things he didn't have a name for, and a brazier that was thankully unlit. The centre was left empty.

"Welcome to my entertainment room Sheppard," Kolya said smiling maliciously, turning to the guards, "Secure him to the chains."

Without waiting for the guards to grab him once more, John walked to the chains of his own accord, his jaw set, and spread his legs so that the guards could shackle his ankles. The guards stared at him, surprised by his compliance, and then hurried to secure the chains when Kolya glared at them.

Cutting through the ropes that still bound his hands, they removed his BDU shirt and t-shirt, before fitting the restraints on his wrists and pulling the chains taught. His arms were spread out from his body and slightly raised, in such a position so that if his legs could no longer support his weight the chains would hold him upright.

Kolya walked up to him, "Today you will be punished for the death of one of the sixty men of mine you killed." He pulled a grainy black and white photograph out of his pocket, showing it to John. The man in the photograph was dressed in the Genii uniform, smiling proudly. John's heart twisted with regret, he wished that this man's death had not been necesarry, but it was the price of war.

"His name was Idon. He was the son of one of my oldest friends, and you killed him. For that you must pay."

John refused to turn and watch as Kolya browsed the shelves for something to 'punish' him with. When he walked back into view, he was holding a knotted whip.

"Today you shall be thrashed. When I determine that any more lashes would be to dangerous, you will be beaten, then you will be left to hang there until sunset. After that, I will no longer hold you responsible for the death of Idon."

John remained silent. If he spoke he knew that Kolya would hear the fear in his voice.

"Very well, if you have nothing to say, we will begin."

He heard Kolya moving behind him and tensed, trying to make himself ready for the pain he knew was coming. Try as he did, he was not prepared for the sudden blow, and the line of fire that opened up on his back, and he bit his lip to smother the cry of pain that threatened to escape. Before he had time to recover the next blow fell, and the next.

His world became a haze of agony, each strike worst than the last, ripping and tearing the flesh on his back until it felt like someone had doused his back in gasoline and lit a match. The pain continued, each blow making him flinch, his legs shaking, until they collapsed and he couldn't remain standing. Even then the punishment did not stop, and he drifted in a world of hurt, aware only of the pain, until someone threw a bucket of water over him.

He gasped and spluttered, snapping his eyes open and seeing Kolya standing before him, the whip held in his hand, covered with blood, _his_ blood. Taking out a cloth, he wiped the whip clean, coiling it and handing it to one of the guards, who replaced it on the shelf.

Kolya pulled out a pair of leather gloves and put them on his hands, flexing his fingers and making a fist. He struck at John without warning, his fist driving into his solar plexus and making the air woosh out of his lungs. Another blow to the side, one to the face, one to the ribs, John stopped trying to count and just let the pain envelop him, smothering all thought. All he felt was the burning fire of his torn back, the bruises forming all over his body, and repetitive smack of a leather clad fist hitting his body, a fresh pain making itself known with every punch.

He wasn't even aware of it stopping, all he knew was that no more blows had landed for a long time, or was it a long time? It may have only been a minute. He drifted, expecting another blow at any moment, sometimes passing out only to wake with a jolt, his arms screaming in agony at taking his weight. He opened his eyes briefly, but couldn't see anyone nearby, so he closed them again and drifted.

Suddenly the chains went slack and he fell to the floor, grunting in surprise. His hands were unshackled and quickly tied in front oh hime one more, his ankles were released, and he was dragged out of the room, not even trying to stand under his own power this time.

As soon as he was thrown into his cell, he crawled into his pallet and curled up in a ball on his side, wincing as it pulled the lashes on his back, instantly exhausted despite the agony that seared through his body, and felt his remaining strength seeping out of its body, taking awareness with it. If this was death, he no longer cared.

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><p><strong>AN: Please review, I have absolutely no idea if anyone is actually enjoying this story or not :(**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: There is a minor swear in this one, and it gets pretty dark. Enjoy!**

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><p><em>What is the price, am I supposed to pay?<em>

_For all the things I tried to hide?_

_What is my fate, am I supposed to pray?_

_That troubles gone with the sunlight._

Baltimore's Fireflies (Woodkid)

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><p>John's head snapped back as blood filled his mouth, reeling away from the blow. It wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last, already his eyes were nearly swollen shut, his nose bleeding, his lips split. The rest of his body wasn't any better, bruises covered his torso, arms and legs, he was pretty sure at least two of his ribs were cracked. These fresh injuries were layered on top of older bruising, as well as a variety of burn marks, cuts and welts.<p>

His days were routine. Every sunrise he would be awoken by the sound of the hatch on his cell door opening. A small bowl of thin, watery gruel, barely enough to survive on, and a flask of water would be pushed inside. He had learned quickly that if he refused to eat or drink the guards would come in, two would hold him down, one would pry his jaw open and a fourth would pour the slop down his throat until he either swallowed or choked. It was better to force himself to eat and keep his pride.

After he had eaten, the guards would arrive to take him away, he never gave them the satisfaction of dragging him, always walking out under his own power, regardless of his injuries and the weakness he tried to keep hidden, with a straight back and the most correct military bearing he could manage.

Then he would be strapped to either the chair, the ceiling restraints or the table restraints, and Kolya would walk in.

"Today you will be punished for the death of one of the sixty men of mine you killed." The only things that varied was the names and the punishments that Kolya would administer.

"His name was Kyden." Red hot pokers searing his flesh, smoke and the acrid reek of burning meat rising from the wounds as Kolya applied the brand again and again to his back, his stomach lurching with pain and disgust, until there was not a patch of skin that did not feel as if it were on fire, passing in and out of awareness as Kolya grinned while he worked.

"His name was Leon." His head plunged into buckets of ice cold water, held down as he struggled for air, his heart beating to fast with panic, each time feeling like the last as the darkness closed in and the bubbles stopped, only to be dragged by his hair from the blissful peace of near death, coughing and choking, before the water rose to meet him once more.

"His name was Halfar." Leads from what looked like a car battery taped to his chest, jolts of electricity coursing through him and making every nerve ending scream for release, as his body twitched and heaved and his heart danced a jig in the cage of his chest, fluttering like a frightened bird trying to escape.

"His name was Malcorme." Whipped once more, the leather straps tearing and ripping his skin with every strike, his shoulders straining with the effort to keep himself upright, hearing the snap of the lash hitting him again and again, trying to keep count but failing as he passes out every so often from pain or weakness.

But he never screamed, he never begged, never gave Kolya the satisfaction of hearing even a whimper of protest or complaint. He was proud and defiant, fighting through the pain to sneer at his tormentor, showing his enemy a cocky attitude and a clever remark whenever possible. But it was false bravado only.

His body was beginning to fail him. What little food he was given was not enough to properly heal, or stop the weight loss that was stripping his already lean body of any traces of fat and the muscle deterioration that reduced him to a gaunt and pitifully thin figure. He had not been able to shave, and a tangled beard covered the lower half of his face, blending with his shaggy and ragged hair. The dark hollows under his eyes had gotten worse, his skin getting paler, until he looked like some punk kid wearing grotesque makeup. Each injury inflicted weakened him a little more, each time he was slower to heal, his body criss crossed with dark scars and scabbed over wounds, old bruises never truly fading.

The constant torment was beginning to affect him psychologically to, the dark emotions and memories that he tried to suppress were released to wreck havoc on his psyche, depression, guilt, shame, grief and an overwhelming sense of despair choking out every happy thought and feeling until he was left a bitter husk of a man.

He longed for death, but death did not come. Kolya was to smart to inflict enough damage to kill him, and rudimentary medical care kept him from succumbing to infection or some other sickness, and although the near starvation weakened him beyond belief it was not enough to kill him.

Every day he drifted between troubled sleep filled with memories that tormented, dreams of faces that screamed at him with hate filled eyes, and the physical agony of his torture.

He almost preferred the torture, he could fight that pain. What he could not fight was the way that those hateful stares of his dreams cut into his soul, the accusing eyes floating in his mind and piercing his heart.

Every day he wished he could die.

In his darkest moments, curled up on the pallet in his cell with only his pain and the vengeful dead for company he thought that maybe he was dead, and all this was some sort of hell, punishment for his actions and inactions, his failures, all the people he had killed and failed to save judging and accusing him.

_You're not dead Sheppard, you're not that lucky_

_Shut up Rodney, how do you know I'm not dead, you're here aren't you? last time I checked you were pretty dead, _he thought furiously at the phantom figure of Rodney McKay who never really left him anymore.

_Yes, I am dead. You _shot _me!_ John writhed in guilt, the accusation more painful than his wounds, especially since it was true.

Ghostly blue eyes looked at him with something like pity, _You don't think that I am actually here do you?_

When Sheppard didn't answer, the apparition or whatever it was sighed and continued.

_I am the figment that your imagination conjured up to keep you company, although why you would want the company of a snarky astrophysicist, the best friend that _you_ killed is beyond even my superior intellect. You really are a sucker for punishment!_

_Go away! _John mentally screamed.

_You don't really want me to. If some part of you didn't want me around I wouldn't be here._

John shuddered and turned away, trying to block out the words of his own imagination, the constant reminder of his guilt sitting in the cell next to him.

_I am your burden, your penance if you will. I won't go away until you absolve yourself of your guilt, not just you guilt over my death, but the deaths you have been carrying with you even before you came to Atlantis. I won't leave until you let me._

John groaned in despair, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep, wishing with all his heart that he would never wake up.

The agony continued, day after day, as he felt his sanity slipping through his fingers. He didn't talk anymore, not even to make a smart remark to Kolya or the guards, he didn't trust himself to sleep without breaking down completely. Every day the pain was worse as new injuries were heaped upon old, but no matter how much Kolya hurt him he did not scream. The only satisfaction he got was the look of frustration and anger on Kolya's face when he refused to scream, refused to so much as whimper in pain, the defiance in his eyes speaking louder than words ever could, telling Kolya that despite the pain and the despair that he constantly battled, he was not broken.

Originally John had tried to keep count of how many days he had been here, he knew it was over a month, but every time he tried to count more accurately than that he lost track. And still the names kept coming, each one a new face to haunt his dreams and memories, but the faces no longer bothered him like they had before, he was to exhausted by pain and emotion to feel anything more than mild regret, any stronger emotions muted and dull.

His vague musings were interrupted by the sound of the hatch in his cell door opening, and he saw his 'breakfast' being shoved through.

With a sigh, he sat up and dragged himself towards the bowl, shoveling the gruel down his throat and hoping that he would be able to keep it down this time, lately he had been vomiting up his meager meals about half the time, and he knew he couldn't afford to lose anymore weight.

As he finished the cell door was opened and he stood as best he could, his legs shaking with the effort, and walked down the hall towards the torture chamber. His legs could barely support his weight, but as long as there was any strength at all in his body he was determined not to be dragged to his fate.

As the door was opened he was lead to the chair, sitting down almost gratefully as the guard fitted the restraints. As soon as the guard left he let his head droop to his chest, already exhausted, no longer able to keep his eyes open. He knew Kolya would wake him when he was ready to begin.

He was awoken when his head was jerked up by a hand buried in his hair, his eyes snapping open and his vision swimming, disorientated and confused. As his eyes focused he saw Kolya's face.

"Ah, nice to see you awake Sheppard. I would hate to have to begin without you," Kolya chuckled, "It seems I have already punished you for the deaths of my men, who knew sixty days would pass so quickly? However I am afraid your suffering is not over yet."

John's heart skipped a beat with sudden fear, as horrible and agonizing as his torture had been, at least he had known what to expect. He had no clue what Kolya had planned for him now, but he knew it would not be pleasant.

"John Sheppard, there is still a death for which you must be punished. The man you killed was not a soldier, but an unarmed civilian, and you shot him point blank in the chest," John's eyes opened wide in panic, "Worse, he was one of your own people, a member of your team, and, from what I understand, a good friend. Sheppard, today you will be punished for the death of Dr. Rodney McKay."

Something inside snapped, the emotions that had been faded and almost forgotten surging back with a vengeance, stronger than ever before, a wave of shame, grief, guilt, despair, loneliness, self loathing and sheer emotional _agony_ overwhelming his mind and destroying his normally ironclad self control, his mind falling into a chaotic swirl of despair, bitterness and hatred aching for release.

Turning to Kolya he looked the other man in the eyes, and a chuckle escaped his bitten lip. The chuckle became a giggle, which bloomed until he was roaring with hysterical laughter, his head thrown back and his eyes watering with bitter mirth, his shoulders shaking with the intensity of the laugh. Finally with a last chuckle, he stopped laughing and again looked Kolya directly in the eye, his own eyes flat, cold and deadly serious.

"You think you can _punish_ me for this?" He asked, his voice incredulous, "You think that there is _anything_ that you can do to me that will be sufficient to punish me for what I did? You think that there is any amount of suffering and pain that you can inflict which is worse than what I have inflicted on myself? You think you can do anything worse than what I _deserve_?"

He closed his eyes, shaking with self loathing, "I know you hate me, I know you want to hurt me, torture me, _break_ me into tiny little pieces and _rip_ me apart. But no matter how much you could possibly hate me, I hate myself more." He felt hollow at the confession, he hadn't even realized himself how true his words were until he said them, and it hurt.

He let his head hang once more, exhausted and weary beyond belief, "So forgive me if I don't really give a shit what you do to me, because, honestly, I just don't care anymore."

Kolya's face went dark with fury and he backhanded John so hard that he saw black spots in front of his eyes, his ears ringing and his he throbbing with pain. He didn't even see the next blow, and unable to keep silent any longer he grunted in pain.

With a triumphant grin Kolya drew a wicked looking knife from a sheath on his belt, plunging it into John's thigh. John grimaced and whimpered, no longer caring if Kolya heard him, his pride dead. Kolya twisted the dagger and he bellowed in pain and anger, surrendering finally to agony and despair.

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><p><strong>AN: I was tossing up whether to have Sheppard go completely insane in this chapter, but decided that despair would suit my purposes just as well as insanity mwu ha ha!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Sorry that I havn't updated in a while, but real life is deciding that I needed even more whumping :( **

**Just a short chapter this time, I had a bit of trouble with this one and it ended up with a total rewrite, hope you like it.**

**To everyone who has reviewed thank you so much, it has given me the confidence to get over the last couple of hurdles before I can wrap this thing up. I know exactly how I want to end it, I'm just having trouble getting it to go in the right direction. The reviews are a huge help.**

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><p><em>And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor<em>

_Shall be lifted—nevermore!_

The Raven (Edgar Allan Poe)

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><p>John Sheppard lay on his pallet, letting time pass him by unheeded as he stared into space, his mind wandering, idle thoughts floating around like leaves on the wind. He felt empty, his soul ripped open and torn away, leaving only despair and loneliness and the faces of the dead to haunt his dreams. The memories never left him anymore, and, left to rot in his cell, they consumed him.<p>

The look in Sumner's eyes as he had pulled the trigger, killing his commanding officer, Ford staying behind on the hive ship, dragging Holland through the desert with Taliban all around, that memory further poisoned as it overlapped with his memories of Rodney, the terrified eyes of the Taliban soldier and those of his greatest friend one in the same, and still he pulled the trigger.

He choked back a sob, closing his eyes as tears threatened to escape, oh how he hated himself at those moments.

Sometimes they were good memories, movie nights with Rodney, Teyla and Ronon, bickering with Rodney over who would get the last brownie (before Ronon snatched it with a smirk), just spending time with his team. He missed them so much, and although the shadow of Rodney still haunted him, a constant reminder that he didn't have much of a grip on sanity, he longed for the company of his friend, not just an empty memory. Most of all, trapped within these walls and too weak to stand, he longed to fly, be it a Black hawk, F-14 or Jumper, he needed to feel the freedom of the air, the world sliding out from underneath him as he soared through the sky, pain and despair melting away to be replaced with joy, pure and untainted by memories of the past, just himself, his bird and the air.

He sighed, he knew he would never fly again, never taste that ultimate freedom. In this cell, freedom was a distant dream.

He had not been returned to the torture chamber since Kolya had _punished_ him for Rodney. He didn't know how many days it had been, he no longer tried to count, but he knew it had to have been a while, close to two or three weeks, because his wounds had mostly healed. They had healed slowly, leaving vivid scars, but they had healed. His food rations had been increased as well, and he had put some weight back on, although he was still thin.

Not that Kolya didn't torment him still, while he was not taken to the torture chamber, he was still beaten every few days, nothing serious and Kolya was always careful not to break bones or cause any injury that could kill him, but it was enough to keep him in more or less constant pain.

The rest of the time he was left alone, and that was worse. The torture had at least been something to fight against, agonizing as it was he had burned inside with rage and defiance. The loneliness was crushing, the guards never spoke to him, or even to each other, and he was left in silence, utterly forgotten except for the bowls of food and water carelessly shoved into his cell.

It got to the point where he almost longed for a beating, for the harsh words and hatred of his enemy, because it meant he was not alone anymore. He wondered if this was part of his torture, or if Kolya had just forgotten him.

Left in his cell, he destroyed himself, torturing himself more than anyone else ever could, self hatred, loneliness and despair doing what whips and knives never could. John Sheppard was broken.

Kolya strode down the hallway, his four guards in tow, fully intent on delivering another beating on his favorite prisoner. He had stopped the daily torture sessions with Sheppard, while he loved nothing more than watching his enemy writhe in pain he knew that if he were to torture Sheppard much more he would die. Sheppard was by far the strongest person he had ever met, but everyone had here breaking point, and Sheppard had been pushed further than anyone else he had ever tortured. So instead he settled for beating the man whenever he craved entertainment, and it was certainly entertaining.

He stopped in front of the cell, studying Sheppard. Hearing his approach, Sheppard had sat up on his pallet to face him, his eyes angry and defiant.

"Good Morning Sheppard. I trust you slept well?" Kolya bantered, not surprised when Sheppard kept silent. Two months ago he would have said something insolent, something to let Kolya know that he wasn't beaten, but now he just kept his mouth shut. In the 87 day since Kolya had captured Sheppard, he had changed, he had broken, just not in the way that Kolya had wanted him to. He head wanted Sheppard to beg for mercy, but there had been no begging, no cries for mercy, the most he had ever gotten from his enemy was a strangled scream of pain, always mixed with rage and fury at his captor.

He was frustrated, this was not how he wanted it. The quite voice of honor told him that he should put Sheppard out of his misery, put him up against his wall and put a bullet in his head. Honor would be satisfied, justice served, the retribution of the Genii complete, but it wasn't enough.

He wanted, no _needed_ Sheppard to suffer, to break, to scream and to beg and to prove once and for all who was the stronger of the two. In this contest of wills there could be no victory until one of them surrendered, and while Sheppard had surrendered to despair and self loathing, he had _not_ surrendered to Kolya.

Kolya would not let him die until he had.

And so he walked into the cell and punched Sheppard in the gut, hard, relishing the look of pain on his face and the soft grunt that was forced out. Next he kicked him in the chest, so that he fell back onto the ground, and kept kicking him, aiming for the ribs to avoid damaging anything vital, smiling every time Sheppard winced or groaned, reveling in his enemies suffering.

He dragged Sheppard up once more, and punched him several times in the face. Finally done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Sheppard's chest was mottled with bruises, his face swollen and bleeding, his eyes nearly swollen shut. It still wasn't enough, physical pain would not inflict enough suffering anymore. He needed to find some way to truly hurt Sheppard. With an evil smile, an idea began to form, and he walked out of the cell with a chuckle, already planning.

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><p>Day after day, drifting in solitude. He used to love solitude, Antarctica had been perfect, when he flew that Black hawk out there was no one else around for miles, just snow and ice and the endlessly blue skies, but now it was hell. No one but himself, no one else to talk to, no one else to blame, no one else to hate.<p>

And it hurt _so much!_ More than the torture, more than the beatings, he would rather face a thousand lashes than what he was feeling right now. The despair was killing him, his heart felt like it would burst in pain, ripping him apart from the inside. He bit his lip to keep from crying aloud, facing the back wall so that no one could see his tears as the pain raged within him.

God he was lonely! And he knew he deserved it, knew it was all his fault. He had failed Rodney, failed his team, failed everyone! and the hurt was worse because he deserved it. He couldn't blame anyone else for this pain, he couldn't fight it, he couldn't ignore it, he couldn't even hope it would go away because somewhere deep inside he _wanted_ to feel this way, _wanted _to rip himself apart. He was nothing, worse than nothing, and it hurts because he wants to die but he can't. He feels like he is dying but he isn't and it is horrible because the pain is killing him but still he lives!

And it feels like he will die forever.

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><p><strong>AN: I know I changed tense in that last bit but it's meant to be from Sheppard's perspective and it was the only way I could get it to be intense enough for my liking.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I am SO sorry this has been so long in the posting, but with University going back and real life deciding to whump me even harder, it has taken me a while to get back to writing this. Anyways, you'll be plesed to know that the next chapter is done and I am about to start on the last few chapters. The story will be coming to a close soon.**

**This chapter was very hard to write, but I managed it. Also a few little swears in this one, enjoy.**

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><p><em>Time to escape<em>  
><em>The clutches of a name<em>  
><em>No, this is not a game<em>  
><em>It's just a new beginning<em>

_I don't believe in fate_  
><em>But the bottom line, it's time to pay<em>  
><em>You know you've got it coming<em>

_This is war_

Escape (30 seconds to mars)

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><p>John raised his hand to his face, marveling at the feeling of smooth skin under his fingertips instead of the scraggly beard that had been there before. He had no idea why Kolya had wanted him cleaned up, he didn't really want to think about it either, it probably wasn't a good thing, all he knew is that he had been given large bucket of warmish water and a bar of soap and told to scrub. They hadn't trusted him with a razor of course, they weren't stupid, but he had been shaved by one of the guards. The small comfort of being clean was enough to raise his spirits somewhat, and although he still despaired in his cell, it was a little less crushing, less like dying.<p>

It occurred to him that they may have tidied him up for his execution, and the thought made him smile, but he doubted it. He knew Kolya, the man was beyond cruel, and he knew that when he was finally allowed to die, the death would not be quick or painless.

He didn't know what was going to happen, even if he did he doubted that he could do anything about it. So he waited, alone in his cell, for whatever Kolya had planned for him.

He didn't have to wait all that long. About two days after he had been ordered to clean himself up he heard the tramping of feet, more than usual. Normally it was Kolya and four guards. This time it was Kolya and six guards, and an eighth man hooded and bound. The door was opened and two of the guards pointed their triple barrel shotguns at him, while two others covered the new prisoner. Apparently he was getting a cell mate.

Kolya smiled at him, his eyes dancing with laughter, and John suddenly had a _very_ bad feeling about this. Kolya nodded to one of his men, who pushed the hooded man roughly into the cell, following him in to cut the ropes that bound his hands. John looked closely and noticed that he seemed to be wearing BDU's. The hood was ripped off to reveal the face of the prisoner, who winced and blinked hurriedly at the sudden bright light.

It was Major Lorne.

_Crap._

Lorne felt like he had been walking forever. After a hard shove into what he guessed would probably be a prison cell, his bonds were cut and the hood yanked off. Stark, unrelenting light burned his eyes and he couldn't hide a wince at the intensity, blinking furiously as he tried to see clearly. The first thing he noticed was the cell, it was small but not overly cramped, harsh sunlight streaming through a solitary, barred window set in the stone of the back wall. The next thing he noticed was Kolya, a smug smile on his face that made Lorne _itch_ to deck the man, but he knew that was a bad idea, no matter how much he disliked the man. The last thing he noticed was his cell mate, his horribly familiar cell mate.

The man was an absolute wreck, his ribs visible even under the shirt he wore, his skin pale and covered with dark bruises, his eyes sunken and shadowed, his hair even messier than normal, his clothes tattered and his face gaunt. It wasn't just his physical condition though, before, even when horribly injured and in no win situations, he had always been brimming with positive energy, his eyes alive with optimism, or defiance and hope, or even rage if his enemies really pissed him off. Now they were empty, his face blank and still, his body slumped on a pallet on the floor, not even attempting to rise, just watching with those hollow eyes.

Kolya chuckled. "I'll leave you two to become reacquainted. Don't worry, I'll be back soon." With a smirk he ordered the door closed and left, the guards following. Only when they were gone did Lorne reveal the depth of his shock.

"Shit Sheppard, what the hell are you doing here?" He asked, confused and concerned.

"I could ask you the same thing Lorne." Sheppard said, his voice humorless and bleak.

"I asked first, sir." Lorne stated.

Sheppard sighed, running a hand through his shaggy hair, "Drop the 'sir' Lorne, I'm not your CO anymore. I don't know how he found me, I was at a bar doing my best to get drunk when I felt a gun to my head, it was Kolya, he knocked me out, I woke up here."

Lorne looked at Sheppard's emaciated state, raising an eyebrow, "How long ago was that Sheppard, no offence but you look like crap."

Sheppard smiled, a bleak and so obviously fake smile that Lorne didn't know why he even bothered, "I have lost count, at least two months for certain, my best guess is around three and a half."

"Why did he capture you? I mean, he hasn't even tried to trade you for anything, and that's what he did last time. What's the point?"

"Maybe he just enjoys my company," Sheppard said sourly, "No, this time it wasn't about gaining power or supplies, he just wanted me to suffer."

Lorne was suddenly worried, he knew Kolya was a sadistic bastard, and he very much doubted that the bruises he saw on Sheppard's face and arms were the only injuries. "How bad?" He asked simply, watching Sheppard flinch slightly at the question, looking away and refusing to meet Lorne's eyes.

"Bad enough, he tortured me for sixty-one days straight. Since then I have been pretty much left alone except for the occasional beating."

Lorne's mouth hung slack in horror and shock, _sixty-one days straight!_

"How are you even alive?" He asked incredulously.

"Simple," Sheppard said darkly, "He wouldn't let me die."

John's mind was in turmoil, it was bad enough to be in this cell, alone with crushing despair and nothing but beatings to look forward to, but to have _Lorne_ here, sharing the same fate, was beyond horrible. He knew why Kolya had brought Lorne, it was to hurt John. He knew that Lorne would be beaten and tortured in order to make _him_ suffer. And he knew without a doubt that they absolutely _had_ to get out of here before Lorne ended up like him.

He would not let that happen, no matter what the cost. Nobody would suffer for _him_. He just needed time to figure out a way to let Lorne escape. His mind began racing, emotion giving way to logic, planning, plotting, thinking for all he was worth. A small part of him rejoiced.

_At last I can be doing something useful!_

_That's the spirit! Use that mind of yours for something other than torturing yourself for a change. I am sure you'll come up with some crazy plan and get Lorne out of here, your nowhere near as smart as _me_ of course, but who is? _The Rodney voice chimed in, blue eyes dancing.

John fought the sudden urge to smile, and ignored the voice, more because he didn't want to appear insane then because the vision was causing him pain like it normally did.

"Lorne, were you conscious when you came through the gate?"

"Yes." Lorne answered, puzzled.

"How long did you walk for before getting here?"

"About three hours."

"Do you remember what direction the sun was coming from?"

Lorne caught on, a grin on his face, "The sun was behind me, almost directly"

John smirked, "They should really learn to stop underestimating their enemies. That means that the gate is about three hours 'east', so long as we head toward the rising sun it shouldn't be to hard to find it. Now we just need to get out."

"Any plans on how to do that?"

"I'm working on it," He said, his eyes sparking with grim humor, "How about you?"

"No plans really, but this might help." He said with a smile, reaching into his boot to reveal a long, thin blade, before replacing it.

"How'd you get that passed them?" John asked, eying the weapon with admiration.

"I don't think they searched me as thoroughly as they searched you, you do have a rather nasty reputation after all. And you know Ronon's rule."

"One for them to find, one for you to keep."

"Or in this case two for them to find, one for me to keep." Lorne smiled.

"Well that will certainly come in handy."

Kolya had intended to lock him up with Lorne as a punishment, but it had backfired. For the first time in a long time, a _very_ long time, he felt something other than depression and shame, e had a reason to live, a reason to fight. He would not have fought for himself, would not have even thought about escape, but for Lorne he would. Despite all that had happened he still felt responsible for Lorne, for every man and woman, scientist and soldier that he had ever commanded or protected, and he would fight to the last breath of his body for them, he would lay down his life for any of them without hesitation.

Lorne, sitting in the cell beside him, was the ultimate reminder of that duty, and now, when all else had been torn away from him, duty remained. Duty pulled him out of his depression and filled him with a strength he had not felt for months.

He and Lorne talked in low voices, tossing ideas between them, brainstorming a way to get out of here. They knew that if they wanted to make it to the gate they would need weapons, and, just as importantly, water. Although neither of them had seen what lay outside their cell, the scorching temperature and dry heat suggested that they were somewhere in a desert, and Lorne confirmed that the terrain had felt like sand. They wouldn't last long out there without water.

They spent the days and nights in that cell planning. Lorne had insisted that John take most of the food to regain his strength, and he had reluctantly done so, putting on a little more weight and muscle mass, and, although nowhere near the condition he had been before Kolya captured him, he was strong enough to make it to the gate without slowing Lorne down.

Their planning sessions had been interrupted twice by Kolya. He had entered the cell, had two guards aim there weapons at John, and then beaten Lorne until he lost consciousness, making John watch the entire time, yelling and threatening but unable to do anything to help the other man without getting shot. He didn't really mind getting shot, but he knew that he was no help to Lorne injured or dead, and so he swallowed his shame and allowed only hatred to shine through. When Kolya was finished with Lorne, he would start on John. The beatings that John endured were always worse than what Lorne received.

But despite the interruptions, and the bruises and cuts that took longer to heal than they would have if there had been enough food, they were nearly ready to implement there plan.

John just hoped to any deity that would listen that he could get Lorne off this rock.

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><p><strong>AN: Stay tuned for fun!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Woohoo! Next chapter is up. Enjoy. Sorry it is taking so long to upload, university has gone back and I actually have to do some form of study instead of writing every day.**

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><p><em>I hope you're ready for a firefight<em>

_'Cause the devils got your number tonight, they say_

_We're never leaving this place alive._

Save yourself, I'll hold them back (My Chemical Romance)

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><p><em>A week later<em>

John lay motionless on his pallet, deathly pale. It didn't look like he could even raise his head, much less move himself off the pallet. Lorne, his eyes filled with fear, walked up to the bars, hollering for the guard's attention.

It was about four hours past midnight, and the guards were not happy over the disturbance. Raising there triple barreled weapons and scowling they walked closer to the bars.

"What do you want prisoner?" Asked the more senior guard angrily.

"It's Sheppard," Lorne said desperately, "He doesn't look so good, I can't get him to wake up. I think he's sick."

The guard grumbled, but he knew that Kolya would be incredibly displeased if anything were to happen to his favorite toy. Motioning to the other guard, he opened the cell door. The second guard pointed his weapon at Lorne, who held his hands up calmly. The senior guard walked up to John and kicked him in the side.

"Hey prisoner! Wake up!" He kicked again, and once more, just to check that the prisoner was not feigning unconsciousness. Concerned at the lack of response he knelt down to check the pulse. It felt quite low, and he frowned, truly worried now, and set his weapon aside, turning the prisoner over and looking for signs of injury, his worry over what Kolya would do to him if one of the prisoners died under his care overcoming his caution.

"He get over here!" He said to the younger guard, "I think he's pretty sick. He's pale and his heart rate is really slow."

The second guard lowered his weapon, moving closer to the prisoner, who really did look bad.

The moment he lowered his weapon it was ripped from his hands and aimed squarely at him by the first prisoner. He yelped and looked at his superior for help, only to see the man keel over as the second prisoner head butted him, leaping to his feet and knocking the guards head against the wall, just to be safe.

He returned his attention to the man holding him at gunpoint.

"Keys, water flask, knife and radio please." The man stated, his voice calm. When he failed to deliver the man cocked the weapon and aimed it at his chest.

"O.. Ok" He stuttered, handing over the items as the second prisoner relieved the other guard of his possessions and grabbed the weapon. Walking out of the cell, they locked it and disappeared down the hallway.

As they ran they encountered another pair of guards near the exit, a shot from each weapon neutralized the threat and they were out of the front door, traveling quickly through the rest of the compound and heading for the faint lightening of the sky, taking care of anyone who got in there way. The alarm was well and truly raised by now, but they already had a significant head start, and they quickly settled into a steady pace, alternating between a fast jog and an outright sprint, never stopping. They drank as they ran, both men knew they could keep this pace up all day if they had to. Military training, while not exactly easy _or_ fun, certainly had it's uses, and both men knew the desert.

The dry air scorching John's lungs brought back memories of Afghanistan, if it weren't for the fact that the weapon he gripped was definitely nothing he would have used there, this could have been any number of missions, running through the desert with the enemy hot on their heels. He winced as the constant motion pulled at the bruises already forming from where the guard had kicked him, it had taken a lot of willpower not to react to the pain, not to mention consciously lowering his heartbeat, but it had been worth it to get out of that cell.

As they ran over the rolling dunes, following the faint path that was sure to lead to the gate, the sky began to lighten further. Cresting a particularly high dune, John stole a glance behind them, his sharp eyes picking up movement about a kilometer behind them, and decided to pick up the pace a bit more, his lungs beginning to strain as he ran.

They ran on for another hour, each dune a little harder to climb, pushing themselves harder and harder to maintain a distance between them and there pursuers. Finally they crested a dune and saw the gate standing in solitary splendor. Both men dived to the ground when they saw the guards, hoping they had not been paying attention. There were six of them, two at the DHD, and two on either side of the gate, looking bored and restless.

John licked his lips, taking a swig of precious water from his flask as he surveyed the terrain.

"Thoughts?" He asked Lorne.

"Taking them all at once would be to dangerous. We need to split them up."

John concentrated, running scenarios through his head quickly.

"Split up and circle around them, the dunes can give us cover. You come in from the right, I'll come in from the left. We'll both take down two of the guards next to the gate, if we're quick they won't know what hit them, then that just leaves the two near the DHD. I am pretty sure we can take those odds."

Lorne nodded, it was a simple plan, but had a reasonably hope of succeeding.

"We'll need to coordinate the attack."

"That's where these come in," John smiled, indicating to the radios, "We'll change the frequency so hopefully no one is listening in."

"Alright, let's get out of here," Lorne said enthusiastically, but his eyes darkened for a moment, troubled, "You are coming with me through the gate right?" He asked, worried.

"Sure I am Lorne," John said, "I'm not going to stay here, that's for sure. Court marshals are no fun, but it's better than being one of Kolya's _toys_."

"Good," Lorne nodded, "I'll radio you when I am in position."

John ran back down the dune they had climbed, keeping his head low and trying not to stir up to much sand and give away his position. He licked his lip nervously as he saw the cloud of sand that indicated their pursuers, it was close, and they were going to be cutting it fine.

Picking up the pace he jogged, circling around as quickly as possible without allowing himself to be seen. Finally, he neared the top of the dune where he had chosen to fire from, lying down as slowly as possible, praying that he would not be seen. He took aim at the first of the guards he was to take down, they were about 150 feet away, a manageable shot with these weapons, if not ideal.

He tapped his radio, "Lorne, I am in position. You?"

"In position, ready to go on your mark."

"Ok, count of three, one, two, THREE!"

Two shots rang out at the same time, and John saw the man he had fired at go down with a slug to the chest, quickly adjusting his aim, he fired again, taking down the man next to the first. By the time the men close to the DHD had noticed that they were under attack, the four men closer to the gate were all down. They never stood a chance. Two more shots rang out, and John started down the dune, noticing that Lorne was mirroring his actions.

They reached the DHD, quickly checking that all the guards were down.

"Dial up the alpha site!" John said, turning around to scan the dunes, worried. It all seemed to easy, he knew his luck and by now something should have gone wrong.

as he heard the gate engaged, his bad luck decided to rear it's ugly head, as the sand around the gate seemed to erupt, former genii soldiers surrounding the gate and at least ten weapons trained on his chest.

"Drop your weapons, now!" Barked Kolya.

John threw the weapon down with a snort of disgust, whether it was at Kolya or himself for getting into this situation he didn't know. He saw Lorne drop his weapon as well, and a crazy thought suddenly popped into his head. It was beyond crazy, it was damn near suicidal and had only the slimmest chance of working, but if it worked at least one of them would be safe.

He quickly caught Lorne's eye and mouthed silently _"One for them to find..." _and made a very small hand motion. Lorne nodded almost imperceptibly, signaling that he understood. Behind them the gate disengaged.

The whole exchange took only a few seconds, in which Kolya strode across the desert floor and backhanded John so hard he went down, his vision swimming and his mouth filling with blood.

Lorne leapt forward, eyes angry but worried, and before anyone could stop him was trying to help John stand.

"Major Lorne, please step away from Colonel Sheppard or I will be forced to shoot you."

Lorne quickly backed up, although he glared furiously at Kolya. Kolya was busy watching Lorne and didn't notice John slip something into his pocket.

Satisfied that there would be no further interference from Lorne, Kolya kicked John in the ribs, hard, laughing as the man flinched and instinctively curled up to protect his abdomen. Grinning, Kolya bent down and dragged John to his feet by his collar.

"How dare you try to escape, how dare you kill _more_ of my men. I ought to kill you where you stand!" Kolya growled.

"Then why don't you?" Hissed John, his eyes glinting with hatred.

"Because I am _not_ finished with you. Not yet." Kolya said, still holding John up.

Suddenly John grabbed his arms, driving a knee into his crotch. Kolya doubled over in pain, his face pale with pain and his eyes dark with rage, and John quickly twisted behind him, locking an arm around his throat and pulling Lorne's long, thin knife out of his pocket, holding it against Kolya's jugular.

"Back off!" He snarled to the men surrounding the gate, "Lower your weapons or I will spill his blood all over the desert!"

The men complied, pointing there weapons at the ground and moving back a few paces.

"Lorne! Dial the gate again. None of you will attempt to interfere with this or Kolya will die."

Lorne began dialing again, well aware of the tense silence around him, none of the former Genii soldiers looked happy at the thought of there prisoners escaping, and Kolya was beyond furious.

The gate engaged.

"Lorne, you are going to go through the gate. Everybody else, you are going to let him leave, if any of you some much as move to stop him, Kolya dies." John's eyes were ruthless, and not a single man surrounding the gate doubted that he would carry out his threat.

"Sir, I can't go through the gate, not without you." Lorne said, his eyes downcast.

"I will be right behind you." John said, praying his former XO wouldn't here the lie in his voice.

"Sir, with all due respect, that's bullshit! We both know that you are going to stay behind, because there is no way these bastards will let you through the gate after I go through."

"Do you have a better idea?" John asked quietly, "I am truly sorry, but there are no other options. This way at least one of us is free."

"How touching." Kolya spat.

John tightened his hold and increased the pressure ever so slightly, a thin line of blood trickling down Kolya's neck.

"Lorne, if you ever had any respect or loyalty for me then _please_ go. I have enough blood on my hands already. Do _not_ make me responsible for your death as well." John whispered the last part, his eyes begging, _pleading_ for Lorne to go.

Lorne hesitated one more time, before nodding sadly. "Colonel, it's been an honor."

With that he turned and walked towards the gate, every step more difficult than the last, his mind rebelling at the though of leaving his former CO behind. With a last glance over his shoulder to the sight of Colonel Sheppard standing tall and proud, surrounded from all directions with no opportunity or intention to escape, he stepped through the event horizon.

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><p><strong>AN: Next chapter will be up soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to a reviewer who picked up on something in my story that even **_**I**_** didn't know was there I have made a few slight changes and even tweaked the ending a bit (not giving anything away but it will end on a slightly happier note than all my other fics).**

**To everyone who hits the review button, THANKYOU! There is no better motivation to finish this story, and every piece of encouragement or advice is a way to help me improve the story.**

**This story is nearly finished, it will go to fourteen, maybe fifteen chapters including an epilogue, so the end is in sight!**

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><p><em>Look at me, look at me<em>

_At least look at me when you shoot a bullet through my head_

Bullets (Creed)

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><p>John watched anxiously as Lorne disappeared through the event horizon, resisting the urge to sag with relief, he didn't want to look weak. Keeping a firm hold on Kolya he turned to look at the men surrounding him.<p>

"You there!" He snapped at one who looked less hostile than the others, "Shut it down."

The man hurried to comply, and John couldn't help but sigh quietly in both elation and despair, elation because Lorne was home free, despair because he knew now that he was in for a long and painful death.

As if sensing his thought Kolya tried to stand tall in his hold, "My men have complied with your wishes Sheppard, now release me!" He barked, and John could feel the rage pulsating off him.

"You invaded Atlantis and held my leader hostage, you tortured my friend, you tried to kill me and mine many times, you fed me to a starving wraith and you have tortured me for months," John stated in a calm voice, "I should kill you."

"If you do that you will be dead before my body hits the ground." Kolya said.

"I am going to die anyway. This way would certainly be quicker."

John closed his eyes briefly, allowing the despair to return now that he no longer had to hold himself together for Lorne's sake, wrapping him in a cold embrace as emotion overcame reason. He would not kill anyone to save himself, not even someone who deserved it.

"I should kill you, but I won't. I have enough blood on my hands." Disgusted with himself he dropped the knife and allowed the former genii soldiers to overwhelm him, it didn't matter that he was almost certainly going to be killed now, all that mattered was that Lorne was free. He barely felt the blows that rained down upon him as he let himself be carried away into the bliss of unconsciousness, hoping that it would be over soon, once and for all.

As soon as Lorne reached the beta site he found himself surrounded, again, but his face broke into a smile when he realized that they were not former genii soldiers, but the marines that guarded the gate of the beta site.

"Major Lorne?" One of them asked incredulously, "Where have you been, everyone has been worried sick trying to find you and you end up here?"

"I escaped," Lorne said simply, "With some help. I need to get back to Atlantis ASAP, I know that there protocols and I have been missing for a while, but there isn't much time."

The marine sensed his urgency.

"Dial Atlantis," he said, "Major Lorne, you can explain to Colonel Caldwell."

Lorne nodded as the gate engaged, and the marine spoke briefly over the radio before handing it to Lorne.

"Colonel Caldwell?" He asked.

"Major Lorne," he heard his CO say, "It's good to here from you. Where have you been?"

"I was ambushed sir, some former genii soldiers led by Acustus Kolya got the jump on me and I was taken to a compound on another planet."

He paused, trying his best to remain calm despite the fact that time was crucial, "Sir, I wasn't the only prisoner. Kolya also had Colonel Sheppard captive."

"Sheppard?" Caldwell asked, his voice tinged with anger, "Is he there with you?"

"No sir, he is still on the planet where we were held."

"Alive?"

"When I last saw him, yes."

He heard Caldwell sigh, "Alright Major Lorne, you had better come through and brief us on the situation."

"Yes sir." Lorne said, and hurried through the gate.

As he stepped into the control room he saw Zelenka rushing to greet him, and Lorne gave him the address before hurrying into the briefing room.

Caldwell was in there, and moments later they were joined by , Ronon, Teyla and Carson, all looking relieved to see him but anxious over his news.

"I'll make this quick. I was ambushed by Kolya on the last mission and he took me captive. I was taken offworld to a compound and thrown into a cell, Colonel Sheppard was already in the cell. From what he told me he had been in there for at least three months, maybe longer, and he wasn't in very good shape." He swallowed, remembering the sight of his former CO, pale, thin and covered with bruises.

"From what I understand Kolya captured me to get to Sheppard. It backfired though, he was expecting Sheppard to go to pieces at the sight of me, but he didn't. We spent most of the time trying to come up with a plan to escape, although we were interrupted a few times by _visits_ from Kolya."

He grimaced, remembering the beatings, how hard Sheppard had fought to protect him, to take the blows himself rather than allow him to be hurt. With every beating Sheppard had taken the worst of it, and still kept his head high and had the nerve to taunt his nemesis.

"Last night we were ready to try and escape. Sheppard pretended to be sick, and to be honest he didn't have to pretend all that much. The guards came in, tried to wake him, but he kept still, even when he got kicked in the ribs a few times. Finally the guards were worried enough to get careless and we were able to disarm them and take there weapons, water flasks and radios. We made our way out of the compound bypassing most of ten guards though we had to kill some of them, and ran towards the gate. We ran from just before dawn until about mid morning before we reached the gate, and we took out all the guards surrounding it, or so we thought."

"When we got to the DHD Sheppard told me to dial up the gate while he watched our backs. Just as the gate engaged several genii rose from the sand. It looked like they had been hiding under blankets covered with sand, so well camouflaged that neither of us even noticed. We were surrounded from all sides, there must have been about thirty of them, including a very angry Kolya."

"How on earth did you escape?" Dr. Weir asked, her eyes wide at the picture his words had painted.

"Colonel Sheppard. Just after we dropped our weapons he managed to signal me to somehow pass the knife I had hidden in my boot to him. Kolya walked up to him and backhanded him so hard he was thrown to the ground. I took the opportunity and rushed over to him, ostensibly trying to help him stand and check for damage but really it was just an excuse to get close enough to slip him the knife."

Ronon nodded with silent approval, and Lorne again rejoiced tat he had listened to the Satedan when he suggested that everyone keep multiple knives on there person at all times.

"Kolya ordered me to step away from Sheppard or he would shoot me, and I did. He hauled Sheppard up by his collar and started threatening him, and while he was busy ranting Sheppard kneed him in the crotch and twisted around behind him, locking an arm around his throat and putting the dagger against his jugular. I am pretty sure he learned that move from you, Teyla." Lorne said with a smile, and was rewarded with an answering smile from Teyla, she was glad that John had remembered at least some of the things she had taught him.

"While he had Kolya at knife point he ordered the soldiers to lower there weapons and allow me to dial the gate. When I had finished he told me to go through," Lorne looked down, ashamed, "I didn't want to, I knew that he was planning to stay behind to assure my escape. He said he would follow him, but I knew he was lying. Finally, he begged me to go, told me that if I didn't Kolya was going to kill us both, and that he didn't want to be responsible for my death. I couldn't refuse him, not when he asked like that. And I hoped that if I could get back to Atlantis soon enough I could do something to help him, so I went through the gate, as soon as I stepped out on the beta site it disengaged."

"You did the right thing Major Lorne, if you had remained on that planet all that would have changed is that Kolya would have you both."

"Colonel, I request permission to mount a rescue mission. I know that if Colonel Sheppard ever returns it will be to face a court marshal, but I cannot leave him on that planet. I _will_ not leave him there."

Caldwell sighed, running a hand over his eyes.

"Major, what are the chances that Sheppard is still alive?"

"I would say fairly high. I would assume that Kolya has not killed him yet, knowing Kolya he will want to make Colonel Sheppard's death public, and, in all likelihood, painful and humiliating to. I never thought I would say it but the mans sadism is probably our greatest ally in this. He will probably take Sheppard back to the compound, which is a good three hour journey at least, and he won't kill him right away. I would say we have at least a day before Kolya kills him."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I hate to say this sir, but Sheppard looks like hell. Kolya has made him suffer dreadfully and the only reason he was still alive when I first saw him is because Kolya wouldn't let him die. The man is a bastard, and he won't let Sheppard die easily. If we cannot rescue him then Kolya will make him suffer more than ever before. He has always been careful not to inflict enough damage to kill Sheppard, but now he will have no such constraints."

Everyone in the room paled at this.

"Alright, lets go to the control room and send a UAV through to see what we are dealing with."

The moment that the address was dialed and the shield lowered to let the UAV through a barrage of weapons fire entered the gate, bullets zinging through as people ducked for cover. The UAV was down in seconds.

"Shut it down!" Dr. Weir yelled.

The gate disengaged and everyone breathed a sigh or relief.

"I do not think we are going to be able to get a jumper through that." Dr. Weir said reluctantly, and Lorne's heart sank.

"How far away is that planet? How long would it take the Daedalus to get there?" Asked Ronon, his face determined.

One of the techs typed furiously, calculating distance and the time it would take to travel.

"28 hours." He said confidently.

Lorne immediately straightened.

"Sir, I would like to request that we take the Daedalus to that planet, beam down and rescue Sheppard."

"Request granted. Dr. Weir, can you manage here without me for a couple of days?"

"Yes, why?"

"I want to take the Daedalus myself," Caldwell admitted with a slight smile, "I admit to some nostalgia for my former post, and I believe that as Colonel Sheppard's superior it is my responsibility to ensure his return."

"Very well," Dr. Weir said, "Please, try to bring Colonel Sheppard home."

"I will."

"I am going as well," Carson stated, his face determined, "I know that the medical team on the Daedalus is more than capable, but I would feel better if I were able to treat Colonel Sheppard myself, and who knows what state the lad will be in by the time we get there."

Dr. Weir nodded her consent, "We are going as well." Teyla stated calmly, leaving no room for disagreement as Ronon glared as if daring someone to try and stop him.

"I am going to." Lorne said.

"Major," Carson started, "You are exhausted, dehydrated and malnourished, you should be in the infirmary, not on a rescue mission."

"Doc, I have 28 hours to rest and drink and eat, I am not leaving him again." Carson knew better than to try and dissuade the major any further.

Dr. Weir looked at the determined faces around her, nearly overwhelmed by the loyalty that shone through everyone's gaze. While Colonel Sheppard may be disgraced and facing court marshal, she knew that everyone would do there absolute best to retrieve him from Kolya's clutches.

Awareness rushed back to John all to soon as he lay on the desert ground, every inch of his body aching. Remembering how he got here, he decided to just keep his eyes closed and hoped no one would notice he was awake. His hopes were dashed by a sudden foot connecting with his ribs, and a choked cry escaped his lips, his eyes snapping open as he tried to bring his knees to his chest.

"Wake up Colonel Sheppard, I do not intend for you to spend what time we have left together asleep." Kolya smiled.

John sat up, wincing as his body protested, and moved his arms, evaluating the damage. The second he tried to move his left arm white hot pain shot through the entire limb. He looked down and saw that it was clearly broken about three inches below the elbow. Keeping that arm cradled to his chest he moved his torso, trying to ignore the little flares of agony from what he suspected was a couple of broken ribs.

Satisfied that there was no severe damage from his beating other than the broken arm and ribs, he clambered to his feet, meeting Kolya's gaze unflinchingly.

"Wonderful! You can still stand. That will make this easier." Kolya said, indicating to one of his men, who roughly grabbed John's arms and bound his wrists in front of him.

John's vision grayed out as his arm burned in agony at the movement, but he was determined to give no outward indication of his pain. Kolya's men formed up around him, the man himself just beside him.

"Move out!" Kolya ordered, and they started walking, the man behind him roughly pushing him forwards.

"Do try and keep up Sheppard, or I will have to find some way to motivate you."

John gritted his teeth and started to walk. Each step jolted his ribs and arm, his legs felt like lead and his mind drifted in a haze of pain and exhaustion. He knew that sometimes he would stumble and fall, because the soldiers would drag him to his feet, laughing, but he didn't remember falling. Sometimes Kolya would call for a halt and the men would all drink from there water flasks. Someone would walk up to him and pour a few mouthfuls of water down his throat, smiling as he choked on it.

He wasn't aware that they had gotten back to the compound until he was hurled back into his cell. With a sigh of relief he lay down.

"Don't get to comfortable Sheppard, you'll only be in there for an hour or so." Kolya taunted, but John didn't hear him. He was already asleep.

When Kolya returned to the cell he was surprised to see Sheppard sitting against the back wall of his cell, awake and alert. His face was calm, peaceful even, and Kolya resented the fact that he could be so composed. He ground his teeth in annoyance, no matter how hard he had tried, he had been unable to break this man. He longed to push this man until he Finally broke, but he knew it was to dangerous to do so. Sheppard had already proven that even weak, injured and more than half starved, he was a dangerous foe. Far to dangerous to be left alive.

Even so, Kolya wished that he had been able to destroy Sheppard's spirit. He would have to settle for destroying the man's body.

He was forced to admit to a feeling of grudging respect for this man. He had gone through hell, he had suffered more than any other man Kolya had ever tortured, and had remained strong and defiant throughout it all. Even now, at the end, when he knew he was going to die, he was still strong. The defiance was gone, there was no spark of hope in those eyes, but the strength remained.

"Colonel Sheppard. The time has come for you to be executed for your crimes against the genii." Kolya said, almost reluctantly.

Sheppard merely nodded, pushing himself off the wall to stand at his full height, his head held high and proud.

Kolya opened the cell, motioning to his guards to keep the prisoner under control in case he tried something. Suddenly he had to fight the compulsion to end this quickly, and shook his head, disgusted at this sudden feeling of mercy. No, John Sheppard would die, and he would die _painfully_, the last traces of hope and joy torn from him by agony.

John walked, ignoring the aches of his body and the tiredness in his limbs, determined not to show even the slightest hint of weakness, not now, so close to the end. On another day it didn't matter if he screamed as the movement jolted his broken arm, didn't matter if Kolya saw him wince with every step. But today it did. Because today was the last day, the rest of his life measured, not in decades, years, months or even days, but in minutes, hours at most.

John didn't regret it. He didn't fear death anymore. He just wanted it to end, he didn't want to run anymore, he didn't want to feel the grief and shame that had haunted him for so long, didn't want to be hunted by friends and enemies alike.

He didn't want to hurt anymore, and _dammit_ it _did_ hurt, it hurt all the time! The loneliness and despair never truly left him, even before Atlantis, even before the air force even it had haunted him, the feeling that he could never _truly_ belong. On the few occasions that he had found friends, _family_ that he could connect with, they had been ripped away from him, usually because of his own mistakes.

His mistakes had cost him _everything_ except his life, and that would be remedied soon.

He blinked as the sunlight assaulted his eyes, the yard in front of the building where he had been held was filled with former genii soldiers, all eager to watch him die. The mood was cheerful, several of the younger soldiers were laughing and joking around, the older ones merely smiling at the thought of their enemies upcoming execution. As he walked past they turned to stare at him, there eyes filled with a mixture of hate and a sick sort of joy, and his stomach twisted with anticipation.

The crowd parted and he was marched up to a wall and his back pushed against it.

_Well this sucks!_ A familiar voice sounded within his head, and he flicked his eyes quickly to the wall beside him where the unmistakable form of Rodney McKay stood with his arms crossed, glaring daggers at Kolya.

_I thought you'd left._ John thought back with some surprise, keeping his face and his eyes carefully blank.

_Well I'm not going to leave you to face this alone no matter what the others say._

_Others?_

The figure looked flustered for a moment, _Never mind that. I'm here now, that's all that's important._

_Why are you here?_

_Things are going to get pretty bad soon, I thought you might appreciate some... emotional support._

_Thanks I guess._

He returned his attention to Kolya who was standing in front of the assembled genii, playing to the crowd with all of his considerable charisma.

"Loyal soldiers of the genii, today you will witness the death of Lietenant Colonel John Sheppard, one of the most hated enemies of all _true_ genii. While the current government may be week and unwilling to challenge the Atlantis expedition, _true_ genii know we cannot allow this mans crimes against our people to be forgotten. This man who single handedly killed _sixty_ of our soldiers in one night must be punished, and cannot be allowed to come against us again."

"If any man believes that Colonel Sheppard should be allowed to live let him speak now."

The audience played there part well, remaining silent.

"Well Sheppard, it seems that every man here wants you dead. Do you have anything to say in your defence, is there any reason why I should not kill you?" Kolya raised his brow mockingly, clearly hoping that John would humiliate himself by begging for his life.

He lifted his head and stared directly into Kolya's eyes, his own betraying only faint sadness.

"My life is yours to do with as you will, I no longer care." He stated, his voice flagt and brutaly honest.

Kolya looked surprised for a moment, and John almost smiled inside. No matter how many times he had told the man he did not fear death he didn't seem to be able to believe that anyone could _accept_ death.

With a flash of insight John realized that for all the man's ruthlessness and discipline he was probably deeply afraid of dying, and he allowed himself an internal chuckle at his enemies expense.

_That's the spirit, _Rodney said happily.

"Very well, since nobody here objects, not even the prisoner, I shall carry out the sentance myself."

He pulled his sidearm out of it's holster, checking the magazine and cocking the weapon. John stood to his full height, no longer resting against the wall, and raised his chin defiantly. With a smooth motion Kolya lifted the pistol and put it to John's temple, there eyes locking as Kolya desperately searched for some sign of weakness in the eyes of his enemy, finding only strength.

John gazed calmly into Kolya's eyes, his body relaxed as he waited for the trigger to be pulled and his life to end. His heart soared freely, feeling lighter than it had since he was a child.

Kolya snarled with frustration at the peaceful look on John's face, and suddenly shot his left hand forwards, gripping the collar of John's shirt and he shifted the pistol from John's temple tohis abdomen and before John could even register the change, he pulled the trigger.

For a momnet it felt like he had been punched in the solar plexus, before white hot agony tore through him body and sould, tearing him apart from the inside as he fell to his knees with a strangled groan.

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><p><strong>AN: I am just to mean :P**

**Don't worry, the next chapter is nearly done.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: ***Hides behind evil kitty* please don't kill me! I know this is super-late but things have been crazy with uni, first a field camp for biodiversity, then three bloody assignments, not to mention all the craziness real life feels compelled to heap on me, yikes!

Anyway's, I have been trying to get this chapter to do what I want for nearly a month now, and I finally managed to wrestle it into submission.

Enjoy.

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><p><em>I open my eyes, I try to see<em>

_But I'm blinded by the white light_

_I can't remember how, I can't remember why_

_I'm lying here tonight_

_And I can't stand the pain_

_And I can't make it go away_

_No, I can't stand the pain_

_How could this happen to me?_

_I've made my mistakes_

_Got nowhere to run_

_The night goes on as I'm fading away_

_I'm sick of this life_

_I just wanna scream_

_How could this happen to me?_

Untitled (_How could this happen to me_) (Simple Plan)

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><p>John was on his knees in the sand, his vision whited out by pain as he struggled to understand what had happened to him. His bound hands reflexively went to the source of his pain and he felt a hot, sticky wetness on his abdomen, his heart stuttering with fear as he looked down to see the wound.<p>

It wasn't good.

A large hole had been torn just below his ribcage on his right side, blood pouring from the wound. It was not an outright kill shot, but without medical attention he would die, either quickly from blood loss or slowly from infection. Neither option was particularly attractive but he would take blood loss over infection any day.

He looked up at Kolya, unable to hide the pain in his eyes, hating himself for showing it, hating Kolya for seeing it, but most of all hating Kolya for not killing him outright. Every soldier dreaded a belly wound. If you were lucky you died of blood loss and shock relatively quickly instead of spending hours or days in agony from both the wound and the infection and fever that were sure to follow.

Gathering his strength, John spat out at his most hated enemy, "You missed my head. I have to say, I thought you had better aim."

"Come now Sheppard, you didn't think I would let you die that easily did you? You are even more naive than I gave you credit for."

He drew a syringe from one of his pockets with an evil grin.

"The fun is only just beginning, you will not die for at least twelve hours, you might even last a day if you are strong enough. But do not hope for rescue, even if your former friends are foolish enough to attempt it, even their medicines will not save you now."

With that he plunged the needle into John's neck, smiling as the man flinched, and pressed the plunger.

"What was that?" John gasped, "What did you do to me?"

"That was a rather special cocktail of drugs that I had my scientist develop specifically for people who were to dangerous to be allowed to live, but who had annoyed me enough to deserve a slow, _painful_ death. From what I understand it contains a stimulant to keep you awake and aware no matter how bad the pain gets, and a blood clotting agent to keep you from dying from blood loss. Unfortunately both drugs are poisonous in such high dosages, so I'm afraid that soon your organs will start to fail. Even without the wound, you would probably only have two days two live."

Kolya sneered, and kicked John in the chest, sending him slamming into the wall behind him, and John gave a strangled cry, the pain overwhelming, and he wished he could just black out, just fade away and never wake up. But Kolya's little needle had made that impossible, and he was awake and horribly aware of _every_ sensation.

He felt hands grab him roughly, his shirt was ripped open and a dressing was pressed against his wound. The world spun crazily and he couldn't help but utter a single, choked cry as a genii soldier bound the dressing with a bandage to ensure that he wouldn't bleed to death before he had suffered enough. After the bandage was tied off, he just sat against the wall, breathing hard.

The pain ripped him apart, every breath causing fresh waves of agony, seconds felt like hours as time slowed to a standstill. He bit his lip to keep from screaming and tried to block it out, finally mastering himself enough to glare at Kolya, not trusting himself to speak.

Kolya just laughed, and turned on his heel, leaving John slumped against the wall in agony.

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><p>John drifted for a bit, never fading into unconsciousness, but slipping in and out of coherent thought. He could never escape the pain however, it clung to him like a beast, sinking its claws deep into his flesh and <em>never<em> letting go.

A particularly bad wave of pain left him panting, lying on his back in the sand. He looked around, seeing several of Kolya's men guarding him, and he smirked a little, if they thought he could somehow escape in this condition than they were seriously overestimating him.

He heard a snort of laughter. _Don't sell yourself short John, Genii parents warn there kids to eat all there vegetables or the big bad Colonel Sheppard will come and get them._

A pair of blue eyes danced with laughter.

_I thought you were gone..._

_Humph. I had to leave for a bit, but I'm back now, and I'm not going to leave you again, no matter what the others say. _Rodney looked disgruntled.

_Others?_

_The other Ascendeds._

_Your _ascended_? _John though in disbelief.

_Yep. _Rodney smiled smugly.

_How on earth did _that_ happen. I mean... you died, right?_

Rodney's eyes clouded with a hint of remembered pain, _Yeah. But it's possible to ascend after your dead. Not easy, not by a long shot, but possible. That and I had very nearly done it before, so it wasn't as hard as it could have been._

_So your actually here? _John thought back with a little heat. _I thought I was going insane Rodney! Why didn't you tell me?_

_The other Ascendeds wouldn't let me. I wanted to, but there are some pretty stiff punishments for interfering with mortals._

_Then how come your here now?_

_Because your dying John. Your so close to death that the others decided that it doesn't matter what I tell you now._

John gritted his teeth as the pain spiked, his entire abdomen felt like it was on fire, he felt as if he was going to vomit and desperately fought the nausea to avoid it. Vomiting wasn't pleasant at the best of times, but with a stomach wound it would be pure hell.

Rodney seethed with frustration and worry.

_I hate this! I have to watch you in agony and I can't do _anything_ about it! Letting you see and hear me is one thing, but it I interfere they'll cast me out quicker than thought. I just wish I could do something._

John groaned quietly and closed his eyes, longing for release.

_Rodney... go. There is nothing you can do, I'm dying, it's just a matter of time, and there's nothing you can do. I don't want you to see me like this._

_No John. I won't let you lie here in pain by yourself. I won't let you die alone._

John sighed wearily.

_Everybody dies alone._ He though sadly.

_No! _I_ didn't die alone! I died knowing that I had friends, that I would be missed, that people would notice that I wasn't there anymore._

_No one will care! _John thought in anguish, _My family doesn't even know that I'm still alive, I don't think they'll even care that I'm gone. If my ex-wife finds out she'll just be happy that I proved her right, she always said I'd get myself killed. No one will care!_

_No, people _will_ care. Teyla, Ronon, Elizabeth, Lorne, hell, most of Atlantis!_

_No Rodney. They won't. Rodney, I _killed_ you! They hate me now. They were going to send me back to earth, it would have destroyed me, _John sighed sadly, _It's better this way Rodney. Everyone gets what they want. Kolya gets his revenge, Caldwell gets my position, the rest of Atlantis gets me out of the way, and I don't have to live this life anymore._

Rodney blanched.

_You don't _want_ to live, do you?_ He accused.

John chuckled painfully under his breath.

_Rodney, I haven't wanted to live for a year now. I just don't care anymore. There's nothing left for me on Atlantis, there was never anything for me on Earth, and I really doubt there's anything out there for me in the Pegasus galaxy. I'm not really living, I'm just surviving. And I hate it._

Rodney didn't know what to say, he just crouched in the sand, his eyes filled with sadness and compassion.

_John, I can't take the pain away, but I am here. I won't leave you, not now, not ever. I will be here, until the end. You will _not_ die alone._

* * *

><p>He lay in the sand, his life slowly ebbing away, every second that passed he was a second closer to death, every breath harder than the last. The sun slowly sank as the hours passed, the last rays of light touching his face as he shivered in agony, his jaw clenched. Rodney sat beside him, rarely speaking, just being there for his friend, as he got weaker and weaker.<p>

The planets two moons rose, unfamiliar stars twinkling in the darkness.

_John, it doesn't have to end this way,_ Rodney said tentatively, _You don't _have_ to die. There is another way._

_I'm not going to ascend Rodney. It's not for me._

_Hell John, you think it was really for me? I'm a scientist for crying out loud, 'spiritual enlightenment' isn't exactly my thing. What makes you think you couldn't do it?_

John squirmed slightly, _Well for one, I can't meditate to save my life. And ascension is for _good_ people. I don't think I'm a good person._

_John! You are one of the best people I know! You always put others before yourself, you never hesitate to put yourself in danger to protect people. You never quit trying to save people, you would die for _any_ of us! How are you _not_ a good person?_

_Rodney, I'm a failure. I failed as a son, I walked out and never looked back, I haven't even spoken to my father in years. I failed as a brother, I should have kept in contact with Dave, it wasn't his fault that me and dad always fought. I failed as a husband, I couldn't give Nancy what she needed and she left me. I failed as a soldier, I couldn't protect the people under my command, every man I have lost, here and in Afghanistan, is another failure. I failed. I failed as a person. I do not deserve ascension._

_John please, try! You can do it, I know you can!_

_No Rodney, I can't. I won't. Just let me go. Let me die._

_Why? Why won't you save yourself?_

John just gritted his teeth as pain washed over him once more, obliterating all thought before he could answer, but the question echoed through his head as he writhed in agony, biting his lip until it bled to keep from screaming. _Why? Why can't I save myself?_

* * *

><p>Ronon leaned back in a chair in the Daedalus mess hall, seemingly relaxed and impassive. Inside though, he was nervous and worried. He knew that Sheppard was strong, far stronger than any other man he had met, but he also knew that Kolya was a sadistic bastard. He just hoped he would still be alive by the time they got there. When Rodney died, he had been angry. He had blamed Sheppard, he had been furious at his commanding officer for failing in his duty to protect a civilian under his command. However he had soon realized that it had been unfair of him to blame him for what happened, and anger had given way to guilt and shame. He should have been there to support Sheppard, who had taken Rodney's death harder than anyone, instead he had pushed the man away, refusing to even look at him. Sheppard had left, and Ronon knew that he was at least partially to blame.<p>

Teyla sat beside Ronon, her face serene, but there was a tightness in her eyes that reflected her own worry, and a slight sadness that had been there for a year now. Rodney's death had hit her hard, and when John had left, so soon after, she had been devastated. She had been angry at him for leaving at first, for walking away without even saying goodbye, but anger had given way to sadness. Sadness that John had felt so guilty and lonely that he had chosen to leave his home, shame that she had not done more to help him, had not seen the despair that he had been struggling with.

Lorne sat on the other side of the table, having finally been released from the infirmary after plenty of fluids and some much needed rest. He looked slightly underweight, but he was determined to save his former CO. He had more respect for Sheppard than for any other officer he had served under, and he would do all that was necessary to rescue the man.

They all sat, the minutes dragging into hours as they desperately prayed that they would get there in time.

* * *

><p>Pale light was touching the horizon. John lay sprawled on his back, his eyes closed and his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. The stimulant was beginning to wear off, and he was sliding in and out of consciousness. He was in agony, but at the same time numbness was spreading throughout his entire body, and he was beginning to lose feeling altogether in his extremities. The small part of his mind that still cared knew this was a <em>very<em> bad sign. The other part was just glad that it would be over soon.

_Don't think like that John. Please, don't give up, not yet._

He opened his eyes wearily, Rodney was crouched in the sand beside him, staring towards the lightening horizon.

_Why the hell not Rodney? We both know I won't ascend, there's no reason to stay here any longer._

_Just hold on, please. Help is coming._

John sighed.

_Even if they get here in time there's nothing they can do, I'm to far gone. And you heard Kolya, even if Carson can patch me up I'll die in a couple of days anyway when all my organs start shutting down. They can't save me, no one can._

Rodney met his gaze solemnly.

_I know John. That's not why you need to hold one. You need to say goodbye to them. They need to hear it, they're hurting. _You're_ hurting, and you need it as much as they do._

John closed his eyes. Rodney was right, hell, he was always right, ascension couldn't change that. He knew that if he died before his team, his friends, the closest thing he had ever had to a _family_ got here, they would be devastated. They would blame themselves for not getting there sooner.

And as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he _needed_ them. He was _lonely_, so very lonely, and it was _killing_ him, as surely as the bullet wound in his abdomen or the toxin coursing through his body. He didn't want to die alone.

He set his jaw, the spark of life within him that had almost faded into nothingness flaring up with sudden determination, his eyes burning with it, and his heart consumed by it.

_Ok Rodney. I'll hold on._

He turned his head and watched the horizon, feeling almost peaceful, despite the pain, the numbness and the absolute certainty that he was dying. The sun was rising.

* * *

><p>Kolya strode into the courtyard about two hours after sunrise, a small smile on his face and his eyes sparking with sadistic glee. He stared down at Sheppard. The man was lying on his back, his arms spread wide. The dressing on his abdomen was caked with blood, both dried and fresh, and his breath was coming in shallow pants. Despite this, his eyes were open and alert.<p>

Kolya was disturbed by those eyes. They were filled with agony, yes, but instead of the fear and despair he had wanted to see, all he saw was determination, perhaps even a little defiance. He had not expected that. He had expected Sheppard to be broken. He had been disappointed.

"Well done Sheppard, you survived the night. I admit, I did not expect you to live this long."

"Sorry to disappoint." Sheppard slurred wearily.

Kolya chuckled, taking in his enemies condition, "Joke all you like Sheppard, you're not getting out of _this_ one."

Sheppard just snorted, "No shit Kolya."

Kolya smiled and walked away, a spring in his step. Today, the game between himself and John Sheppard would finally be over.

* * *

><p>The sun beat down upon him, drawing all the moisture from his body. His lips cracked and bled, his skin burned, the heat seared at his lungs and his breath came even shallower than before. His whole body felt like it was on fire. The sun was high in the sky, it was about an hour before noon, and he didn't think he could hold on much longer. He was weakening, hardly even able to open his eyes anymore. Instead he kept them closed. His world was a world of smells, feelings and sounds.<p>

He could smell the foul stink of sweat, and the rich, coppery scent of blood. He could feel the sun beating down upon him, the pain of his wounds and the small trickle of blood that leaked from the corner of his mouth. He could hear the heavy tread of booted feet, the confusing babble and snatches of conversation as the genii soldiers talked among themselves.

The distant voices seemed to get louder, more strident, filled with confusion and fear. The oh so familiar purring of P90's, the lower whine of Ronon's blaster combining with the sound of the genii weapons.

He could of cried out with relief. They had come!

Just as he was preparing to sit up and make things a little easier for them, he was hauled to his feet painfully by his hair. He struggled to open his now tearing eyes, and came face to face with an irate Kolya.

"Your friends may have come to your aid, but _don't_ think I'm going to let you escape this time." He snarled, his face a mask of fury, his eyes shining with malice, rage and madness. Kolya was well and truly beyond reason.

Kolya locked an arm around his throat and dragged him to his feet, pulling him along with him, obviously intending to use his as a human shield. A genii sidearm was pressed to his temple.

John wasn't able to support his own weight though, and Kolya was struggling to pull him along.

"Your never gonna make it out of here dragging my ass around Kolya. Might as well just leave me here and try to make it out while you have the chance."

"Never!" Kolya growled angrily, dragging him towards the building complex where he had been imprisoned. John clenched his jaw as waves of pain threatened to make him pass out, every movement was agony, and Kolya was wasting no time being gentle. His breathing was labored and harsh, and he was sagging even more than he had been previously.

They moved slowly, painfully through the corridors, passing the cells, shuddering as he saw the stout wooden door to the torture chamber. He stopped trying to keep track of where they were going, feeling the steady pull of unconsciousness, but resisting. If he fell asleep now, he knew he would never wake again.

As they rounded another corner, Kolya suddenly locked his arm tightly around John's throat almost cutting off air, and pressing the gun hard against his temple. John looked up in surprise and saw a team of five marines, P90s raised threateningly, and his face broke into a grin.

"Lower your weapons or I'll blow his brains out!" Kolya roared at the marines, and they hastily complied. More marines entered the corridor, lowering there weapons when they saw the rogue genii commander holding there former CO at gunpoint.

Kolya snarled in anger and started backing up, his gun pressing even tighter against John's head.

As he backed up however, there were footsteps behind them, and he whirled to see that he had been surrounded, and there were even more marines behind him, led by a furious Major Lorne. Behind Lorne was an even more enraged Ronon, and Teyla, whose face was serene as always, but her eyes flashed angrily.

John's grin grew even wider.

"You ok Sheppard?" asked Lorne, his face worried as he took in the blood soaked bandage.

"Been better."

"Shut up!" Kolya growled.

Lorne turned to him, "Kolya, let him go or we will be forced to kill you."

"You wouldn't dare fire! You'd risk hitting Sheppard. No, your all going to back up, and I'm going to walk out of hear, dragging your precious Colonel with me!"

John caught Ronon's eye and mouthed _Stun?_

Ronon nodded imperceptibly.

_You ready?_

Another nod. John sagged suddenly, forcing Kolya to hold on tighter and look away from the people surrounding him. Ronon's blaster whined and a bolt of red energy hit Kolya. John threw of his arm and got himself free, just avoiding the red energy and falling heavily to his knees. He quickly grabbed Kolya's gun and threw it away, breathing heavily.

"Umm, is great to see you guys, but I think someone had better get Carson."

Teyla knelt beside him, taking a transmitter from her TAC vest and handing it to him, smiling.

"This way is quicker."

Someone grabbed a hold of Kolya, they wouldn't be letting him escape again. There was a flash of bright light.

John was beamed into the infirmary, along with Ronon, Teyla and Lorne. The moment he arrived there he collapsed, blood spilling from his lips as people around him started moving franticly. The last thing he saw was Carson's face, filled with worry, as pain and blood loss finally claimed him.

* * *

><p><strong>an: One or two chapters to go! Please review, it makes me update faster!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** (hides behind hastily constructed barrier clutching my laptop) Ok... I know this is ridiculously late. Heck, I don't think anyone reads this story any more. I tried, I really tried to write this chapter nine months ago, but every time I got something down I absolutely hated it to death and I had to start all over again. Eventually I just stopped writing anything, but a few months ago I got back into it and after writing a few other stories for different fandoms I decided to take one last shot at finishing this.

I'm still not sure about this chapter, it's the last chapter and I wanted it to be something really special, and I'm not sure if I suceeded or not. You'll have to tell me if you like it or if you want me to rewrite it again.

Can I just say to anyone who ever wrote, favorited and escpecially reviewed this story that I am incredibly grateful. This is by far the longest thing I have ever written, and the only time I've even come close to finishing a multi chapter story. Thankyou for sticking by me and putting up with sporadic updates.

Once again I am very sorry that this is so late.

* * *

><p><em>I fly a starship across the universe divide<em>

_And when I reach the other side_

_I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can_

_Perhaps I may become a highwayman again_

_Or I may simply be a single drop of rain_

_But I will remain_

_And I'll be back again, and again_

_And again, and again_

_And again, and again_

_And again..._

Highwayman - Jimmy Webb

* * *

><p>John Sheppard was drifting between awareness and oblivion, reluctant to fully awaken. It was peaceful and calm here, he was blissfully pain free, his entire body felt light, almost insubstantial. Yes, he was quite content to stay here forever.<p>

The voice intruding in his half aware mind had other plans.

"John, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that." The familiar scottish brogue had never been so welcome, but that didn't mean he wanted to wake up right now.

He attempted to communicate this to Carson, managing a small noise of protest.

"Come on son, I know you can hear me." Carson chided gently.

John sighed and cracked his eyes open, "Hey C'rson."

It came out as a rough croak, his throat dry and scratchy. Carson quickly held out an ice chip, and John swallowed it gratefully.

"Thanks."

Carson smiled, but his eyes were sad, "How are you feeling lad?"

John thought for a moment, "Honestly doc I don't feel a thing. I'm betting you've got me on some pretty strong painkillers though."

Carson nodded, "That I do, and don't go complaining about me drugging you, you needed them."

John raised his good arm weakly in surrender, "No complaints here, I'm just happy not to be in any pain."

Carson tried, and failed, to keep a smile on his face, "Aye lad, you've been through the wringer this time. We had to operate as soon as you got here, you were bleeding internally from the gunshot wound, on top of a broken arm, not to mention two broken ribs, and one cracked, add to that the bruising, half healed lacerations and burns, lingering infections, heatstroke, severe malnutrition and dehydration, it doesn't paint a pretty picture."

John tensed slightly, Carson hadn't mentioned anything about organ damage, did that mean he didn't know? Had Kolya been bluffing? No, John decided, that wasn't his style. That meant that either Carson hadn't spotted the organ damage yet, or he wasn't going to tell him about it.

_Only one way to find out_, he thought grimly.

"So doc, whats my prognosis, live to fight another day?"He asked, his voice light, belying the grave intensity in his eyes.

Carson hesitated, "Do you mind if I have a seat?" He asked quietly, indicating to the chair beside the hospital bed.

"That bad huh?"

"Aye." Carson said.

"I take it you know about the toxin?"

"How did you..."

"Kolya was more than happy to tell me all about it when he stuck that needle in my neck."

Carson sighed again, "Yes,I know about the toxin. I've got a whole team of people analysing it but-"

"By the time they know what it is it will be to late."

Carson nodded sadly, "We won't stop trying, maybe we'll be lucky and they'll be able to-"

"Find a cure? Tell me doc, if the cure was administered now, would I survive?"

Carson didn't answer.

"I didn't think so." John sighed.

"John I'm so sorry, if there was _anything_ I could do..."

"I know doc, and I know you'll never stop trying, you'll never give up on me. But Carson, I can feel it. My body is failing."

"I know," Carson whispered bitterly, "By rights you should have been dead before we even got there. I still don't know how on earth you managed to survive."

John smiled sadly, "I wouldn't let go. I didn't want to die without getting a chance to... say goodbye. I needed to see everyone again, one last time, before I leave."

A tear finally escaped from Carson's eye, "I'm so sorry John."

"Don't be. This isn't your fault."

"Not just for this. I am sorry I didn't realise how much you were hurting after Rodney's death. I knew how close you two were, I should have seen it, but I was to wrapped up in my own grief to notice yours. If I had... if I'd done something more, maybe you wouldn't have left, and none of this would have happened."

"Carson, it was my decision to leave. I made my choice, and although it didn't really work out to well, I would do it again. None of this is your fault, you couldn't have stopped me from leaving, even if you'd known."

"Why did you leave Atlantis? Why couldn't you just go and see Heightmeyer. I know you don't like people poking around inside your head lad, but to go as far as you went, to lose your job, your _home_, because you refused to see a phychiatrist? Why couldn't you just let us help you?"

"I think that's a question we all want answered." Colonel Caldwell stated from the entrance to the infirmary. Behind him was Teyla, Ronon and Lorne.

John looked at Carson questioningly.

"Do they know?" He asked quietly.

Carson shook his head, "I only told them that you had come out of surgery. I wanted to wait until I'd had a better chance to analyse the compound, and by then you were starting to come around. Would you like me to tell them?"

John closed his eyes briefly, "Not yet. I think you all deserve an answer first," He sighed, Caldwell, Teyla, Ronon and Lorne all moved closer to hear him speak, at last, about why he had left, "When Rodney died, I was a complete mess. I knew it was my fault, not only had I failed to protect him, I'd pulled the god damned trigger myself! Nothing I did could change the way I felt. I had killed him, I'd killed my best friend. I didn't need a shrink to tell me I was loosing it, and I didn't exactly feel like spilling all my secrets to a stranger, or even someone I knew like Heightmeyer. I knew that unless I did, I'd lose my position, probably get discharged from the air force, but that didn't bother me to much. I was unfit for command, hell, I was unfit for any duty. What bothered me was getting sent back to earth. Since coming to Atlantis, I knew I could never go back to earth, not willingly at any rate. I'd always long to be back in Atlantis, back in Pegasus. I'd waste my life away wishing for something I could never have again."

"Would it have been so terrible to be back on earth?" Teyla asked in confusion, "I always thought your planet sounded ideal, no threat from the Wraith, all that technology..."

John shook his head sadly, "And for most people it is, but not for me. I've seen to much and done to much to ever feel 'normal' again. My father swore he'd never speak to me again after Afghanistan, and my brother followed his example. All my old friends are either still in the airforce or dead. And if I can't fight, if I can't fly, what else can I do? Work in an office somewhere, _retire_, sit on the couch all day watching football? No, there is nothing left for me on earth."

"So you deserted," Caldwell said bitingly, "You stunned a marine and two civilians and you _ran_. You turned your back on the airforce just because you didn't want to go back to your own planet?"

John winced slightly at the accusation, but he didn't deny it. It was true, he had known what he was doing, known that he was purposefully destroying his career, again. He had known the consequences, he had known that if they ever found him he would be dragged back to Earth and courtmartialed, and he had still done it.

Carson and Teyla looked like they were going to protest, but he shook his head slightly, "You have every right to be angry, _I'd_ be angry if one of my men did what I did. I knew what I was doing, but believe me when I say I never wanted to dissapoint anyone."

"It doesn't matter, you're still going to be court marshalled. As soon as your healthy enough you _will_ be going back to Earth," Caldwell said firmly, "Even if I have to lock you in the brig so you won't run off again."

"Believe me Colonel," John said carefully, "I have no intention of escaping, even if I were able to. But I'm afraid I won't be able to be court marshalled."

"What? Why not?" Caldwell asked, his voice hard and suspicious. There was no way he was going to let the disgraced Lietenant Colonel John Sheppard get out of this one. He had wanted the Atlantis command, he had made no secret of that fact. When he first came to Atlantis he had heard all the stories, he had assumed that they were true, that John Sheppard was inexperienced and reckless. He had disagreed with many of the man's decisions, he had been certain that he could have done a better job. Over time though he had developed a grudging respect for the other man, he was determined and tenacious, and would stop at nothing to defend his city.

When Sheppard had run from the city he hadn't just been angry, he'd been _furious_, because the man he had come to respect had ran, like a coward. He had wanted an explanation, _needed_ an explanataion as to why someone loved his job the way Sheppard did would throw it all away. Now he had it, hell, he may even be able to accept the man's reasons in time, but he was damned if he was going to let him escape the consequences.

John hesitated, part of him didn't want to have to tell them, not after they had tried so hard to rescue him. It felt like he was just snatching their victory away from them, but he knew he had to. They deserved to know.

"I'm not going to be alive long enough to stand trial." He said simply.

"What do you mean?" Caldwell asked sharply, his eyes betraying concearn, "Carson will fix you up, you'll be fine." It sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than John.

"No," he said sadly, "I won't. Carson is a wonderful doctor, and if anyone could save me it would be him, but Kolya was never going to let me leave alive." He sighed tiredly.

"After Lorne got through the gate I released Kolya. I suppose I could have killed him, but it wouldn't have made much of a difference, the rogue genii would have just killed me quicker. I was taken back to the compound for my execution. Kolya was sick of keeping me alive apparently, so he wanted me to die in front of all his soldiers. Bastard wasn't going to make it quick though, so he stabbed me in the gut, that was about five hours after Lorne went through. I shouldnt have even been alive when you found me, that wound should have killed me within the first twelve hours or so, but Kolya stopped me from bleeding to death and injected something into my neck. He said it was a mixture of stimulants and blood clotters to keep me aware long enough to suffer for his _enjoyement_." His voice was calm and matter of fact, which just made it seem even more terrible.

Carson was absolutely appaled, even though he had seen the results fist hand. Caldwell was struggling with pity, Lorne looked like he was going to be sick, Ronon looked like he wanted to rip out Kolya's throat and Teyla looked incredibly sad, like all the joy had fled the world.

But they remained silent, they knew he had to speak.

"The mixture of drugs was toxic, theres no antidote. Ever since he injected my organs have been shutting down. The damage is irrepairable. I don't know how long I have before my body shuts down entirely, but I don't think I'm going to make it back to Atlantis, never mind Earth."

They all looked to Carson, their eyes begging him to correct John, to tell them it was all a mistake, that he was going to be fine.

"I'm sorry but he's right, his body is shutting down. Even if I could counteract the effect of the drugs, it's to late, he's to far gone. All I can do is keep him comfortable. I've got him on some pretty strong painkillers, but soon even those won't be enough. I'm giving him as much as his body can cope with, but I'm going to have to start upping the dosages soon, which will do even more damage," Carson tried to keep his tone professional, but his voice failed him, "I'm sorry, I just can't do anything more."

"It's ok Carson," John said gently, "You've done enough."

"Damn it!" Ronon roared suddenly, slamming his fist into a wall, ignoring the damage he did to his hand, "We were to late! Why can't we have gotten there sooner?" The anger fled, replaced by sadness.

"We should have saved you." He said at last.

John smiled sadly, somehow serenely, "You did. I'm alive, I'm awake, I'm aware, I'm not in any pain. What more could I ask for?"

"But your dying." Teyla said sadly.

"If you hadn't found me I would have died in agony, surrounded by enemies with only ghosts for comfort. I would have died without saying goodbye, without apologising for leaving you all. I would have died alone. Thank you for saving me from that." He said earnestly, trying to make them understand.

This wasn't a defeat, this was a victory. He was free, free from the clutches of a sadistic captor, free from pain, from despair and loneliness.

"Thats the reason I held on as long as I did, to say goodbye. I knew that if I died without saying it you'd always feel guilty, like there was something you could have done to save me, but there wasn't. I'm just glad you came for me."

Teyla reached forwards almost hesitantly, placing her hand on his good arm, "We would always come for you John, we would never let you die alone if we could do anything to stop it." She said, her voice sad yet full of affection.

His smile was grateful, if slightly bemused, he was still a little surprised that they would care. A whole year of guilt and self loathing was hard to erase, and part of him was still crying out, desperate for some sort of comfort.

Unbidden the dark thoughts came back, a surge of guilt and despair that he was completely unprepared for. He fought to keep his face steady, slipping behind the smiling mask that used to come so easily. He was surrounded by friends, but it didn't matter, he still had to face the knowledge that he had killed his best friend. Nothing could change that.

"Now now, none of that!" A familiar voice drawled from behind the group, "You were doing so well, don't start beating yourself up over my death again."

Every person in the room except John jumped in surprise, whipping around to face the dead scientist.

"Rodney..." Teyla breathed.

John was confused, "Wait, you can _see_ him?"

"Of _course_ she can John, everyone can. I'm breaking the rules, again, but for some reason the other ascendeds aren't punishing me. I think they like you Sheppard," He grinned, raising his eyebrow, "Or at least, the _women_ do."

"But wait... you really are ascended? I thought I was just crazy."

"You were, a little. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it wasn't. But I really am ascended, and a lot of the time I _really_ was there."

The others could only look on in complete confusion.

"Ok, long story short I ascended after I was dead, hard to do, but possible. Ascension is... strange. I suppose I could have done anything, but instead I decided to follow Sheppard around, in between hanging around Atlantis to make sure some idiot didn't blow her up while I was gone. There were rules though, I couldn't show myself, I couldn't interfere with 'lower plains of existence'?

"Still, I may have... bent the rules around Sheppard. Those times when I screamed and yelled at you for killing me? That wasn't me. That was you going nuts. Pretty much everything else was really me though, starting when you decided to try a little DIY surgery." He smirked at the look on Carson's face.

"Dare I ask?" Carson asked, his voice filled with shock.

"Colonel Sheppard here decided that it was a good idea to cut out his subcutaneous transmitter with his tactical knife and a pair of tweezers." He said, dobbing Sheppard in with glee.

"If you can't interfere, why are they letting you talk to us now?" Caldwell asked, trying to regain some control over the situation.

"Like I said, they like Sheppard. They've been letting me talk to him, they even let me tell him I was ascended after Kolya stabbed him. Thats all I can do though, talk. I coudn't heal him, I couldn't save him, all I could do was be there with him. After you guys saved him I thought I could butt out for a while, but apparently he's not finished rolling in self recrimination yet."

The ascended Rodney turned to John, his voice firm, "Stop feeling guilty! My death wasn't your fault, you thought you were defending a friend from an enemy soldier, you couldn't have known it was me, so stop hating yourself for it. I know it's hard, it's hard to erase months, _years_ of guilt, but you have to try. Because I know why the others are letting me break the rules, I know why they're letting me talk to you, talk to all of you. They _want_ you to ascend. I want you to ascend. The only one who doesn't think you deserve it is you!"

"Rodney, I already told you, I'm not going to ascend, it's not for me..."

"How do you know? All you know about ascension you learned from a group of humans, humans with there own beliefs. You don't know what it's like, no one can, until they do it."

"What's it like then." John asked.

Rodney's eyes went distant, "I can't tell you much, it's hard to put into words and I think ifI told you some things I'd get in an awful lot of trouble. But John..." he breathed, his voice filled with wonder, "You would _love_ it. Well, maybe not the rules, but they're a small price to pay."

"I know you would never chose ascension over life on this plane, your sense of duty is to strong for that. But your dying. If it's a choice between Death or Ascension, please choose Ascension."

John closed his eyes, closing everyone out, just for a moment. He tried to get himself under control, battling the sruges of emotion within his soul. Guilt, pain and despair battled with hope, joy and love, the firmness of Rodney's voice driving away an lingering doubts, the presence of his friends soothing the loneliness. The darkness was slowly being driven away, the light winning.

After a while he opened his eyes, his face composed once more, peaceful, the last traces of guilt leaving his face. He smiled lightly at Rodney.

"I don't know if I can ascend, I've never given it much thought, but I'll try."

* * *

><p>John hid a grimace as his body began to ache once more, the painkillers no longer enough to keep him from feeling the failure of his body, even at dangerously high doses. He didn't want Carson to worry about it, there wasn't anything he could do to fix it.<p>

Everyone around him had settled. Caldwell had gone back to the bridge, Ronon and Teyla were sitting by his bedside, Lorne had been bullied back into the infirmary bed he had recently vacated, Carson was watching the monitors carefully and Rodney was trying to explain ascension, in aroundabout sort of way.

"All that Ancient mumbo jumbo about 'releasing your burden' is a little confusing, it's all about getting into the right mental state. You've actually got a bit of an advantage, it's easier to do with the help of someone who's already ascended, for example, me."

"In order to ascend you need to understand yourself, you need to know your faults and accept them, but you also need to accept your strengths. You're not going tobe able to do this if you keep thinking you don't deserve it."

"When you're ready, I can help you through it. We don't need to do it now," he said, looking around a little wistfully, "You can stay for as long as you need, say your goodbyes, get your affairs in order, then, when you're ready, we can begin."

John nodded, "Thank you Rodney," he said, "For everything."

* * *

><p>It was something he'd never imagined he'd have to do, getting his affairs in order, facing his death, or Ascension, and preparing for it. Hed never thought that he'd know the hour of his death. Sure,he updated his will, wrote letters to family and friends, but it was always just in case, never with the knowledge that he really was going to die.<p>

This was different. These letters weren't going to be some broad statement covering all possibilities, but his last words to his family and friends. Even if he could ascend, he would still be gone.

His arm shook as he forced himself to write, the letter adressed to his father and his brother. He didn't know if they'd even read it, but if Ascension meant accepting yourself he supposed he had to face the way he felt about his family.

_Dear Dad and Dave_

_I'm sorry that I won't be able to deliver this letter in person, when you recieve this letter, I'll be gone. There won't be a body to bury I'm afraid, probably just a flag, maybe not even that considering I went and did something monumentally stupid and career destroying, _again_. I'm sorry I can't tell you where I've been for the past three years, I'm not really sure what they told you after I left McMurdo but the location is classified. Pretty much everything is classified, but I'll tell you what I can. Maybe one day it will all be made public and someone will be able to tell you everything._

_I have spent much of the last four years on a base in a remote location. When I say remote, I mean more even more remote than McMurdo, I'll leave it to you to ponder how that's possible. It's hard to believe, but for the first three years I was actually the milliatary commander of my base. Even I find it hard to believe sometimes, I didn't think anyone would give me a chance, not after the mess in Afghanistan. After the last millitary commader was killed though I was the highest ranking milliatary officer left. We were cut off, and so no replacement commander was sent. Apparently I did a good enough job so that even after we were connected again I kept my command and was actually promoted. I was Lietenant Colonel John Sheppard, although I'm not sure if the rank is still valid._

_I loved my job, our base was filled with wonderful people, milliatary and civillian alike. I led a team that consisted of myself, our lead scientist and two people native to the area. We were very close, more like brothers and sisters than friends. Our base was so remote that after a while we were all like family._

_It was dangerous, there have been many times when I was certain I was going to die. I always managed to escape though, most of the time through sheer luck. Other people havn't been as lucky, I've lost men under my command, civilians as well, far to many. Everyone's luck runs out at some point, and now it is my turn._

_As I said earlier, pretty much everything is classified. All I can really tell you is that I was captured and injected with a toxin, it's destroying my body and I probably only have a couple of hours left. I won't make it home, I wob' ever be able to tell either of you how sorry I am._

_I'm sorry I ran out on you both. The moment I was eighteen I was out that door, never looking back, all I wanted to do was fly. I didn't stop to think how much I was hurting either of you, I didn't consider the fact that you might have been worried about my safety, all I knew was that I wanted the sky and I thought you two were keeping me from it. I know we reconnected after I graduated, but I know you never really forgave me for it._

_I'm sorry about what happened in Afghanistan. I screwed up, I screwed up so bad I thought that nothing would ever be the same again, and it wasn't. When I was given the opportunity to come on this expedition, I didn't even think about telling you, even though I knew there was a very high chance I wouldn't be coming home._

_I was a coward, I couldn't face you. And I'm sorry._

_Most of all, I'm sorry that I left it until now to tell you just how sorry I am, for everything. These things should have been said a long time ago, they should have been said face to face. I should have turned up at your door and told you, even if you didn't listen I still should have tried._

_Instead all you'll get is this letter. You'll never get to see me again, you'll never even know why._

_And I'm sorry._

_I just wish I could have made things right between us before I had to leave._

_I never talk about my feelings, I never tell anyone what they mean to me, but if I don't say it now then I'm never going to get the chance to._

_I love you, both of you. I am thinking of you now and always._

_I wish I could have been a better son, and a better brother._

_Goodbye._

_Love, John Sheppard._

He set the pen down, ignoring the stinging in his eyes. He didn't know how his family would react to his letter, he didn't know if they'd ever be able to accept his apology, but he had tried, and that was all he could do, in the end.

The next letter was shorter, just a few lines really. The last thing he wanted to do was open old wounds and bitterness.

_Nancy_

_I'm sorry I couldn't make our marriage work, I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you needed or deserved. I hope you found someone who can give you everything I couldn't, I hope you live a long, happy life._

_All my love._

_John Sheppard._

His possessions were easier to organsise, his will had already included provisions for all his friends and family, all that really needed to be done was arranging Rodney's share to go to his sister instead.

The business done, he turned to his friends with a smile.

"Everything has been taken care of," he sighed, "I suppose I could go now, but I want to stay around a little longer." He smiled at his friends again. Everyone in the infirmary had pulled back a little to give them the semblance of privacy.

"I missed you guys, more than you can imagine. Before I came to Atlantis I was used to being alone, I'd been alone for solong, ever since Afghanistan, that it just became normal. You guys know I'm not really into the whole... feelings thing but your the closest thing I've ever had to a family. Rodney and Ronon, you're my brothers, Teyla, you're my sister. When I was on Atlantis I knew, no matter how bad things got, you'd always be there. Ronon, you'd always take me running or drag me down to the gym when you knew I needed to work off some steam, Teyla, you'd always try to help me meditate when I was worried or stressed, and you didn't seem to mind to much when I fell asleep, Rodney, you'd always be there when I was bored, taking me down to the labs to turn on ancient devices, playing chess or just discussing whether Batman could beat Wolverine in a fight. Even when I woke up in the infirmary drugged out of my mind after going ten rounds with a wraith or losing an argument with the floor you'd all be there. I never knew how much I needed that until it was gone."

Ronon clasped his good arm gruffly, "Sheppard, you are my brother as well. After Rodney died I blamed you, I was angry, I was hurting, we were all hurting. But I didn't think how much you were hurting. That was wrong, and I'm sorry."

Teyla put her hand on his shoulder, smiling sadly, "I am sorry as well John. I knew you were

hurting as well, and I did nothing. I should have tried, but I didn't."

"It's ok, really it is. I don't hold it against either of you, I'm just glad that you're here now, that I'm not alone anymore."

Rodney just smiled at all of them smugly, obviously pleased that his meddling had worked.

Ronon suddenly grinned slyly, "I wonder what would happen if you threw jello at an ascended?" he pondered. John grinned, Teyla merely raised one eyebrow, and Rodney looked indignant.

"Hey! No throwing jello at dead people!" Rodney protested.

"Would that even work?" John asked curiously, "I mean, we can see him and tal to him, but he's not really here, so wouldn't it go right through him? What do you think Teyla?"

Teyla's eyes glittered with unexpected mischief, "Well I suppose if we wanted to find out we'd have to put it to the test." She suggested.

"Carson, can we have some jello?" John asked innocently.

Carson looked confused and slightly suspicious, "Why do you want jello?"

"Oh, no real reason," Teyla lied, her voice filled with wicked humor, "Just trying to satisfy an idle curiosity."

"Don't believe them Carson," Rodney warned, "They want to throw jello at me to see if it would go through!"

"Well I can't have you lot making a mess in the infirmary, even if it is in the interests of scientific discovery, although..." he pondered, rumaging through his pockets, "Cotton buds wouldn't make much of a mess."

With that comment he proceededto throw a handful of them at Rodney, watching with curiosity as the sailed through his insubstantial form.

"Carson!" Rodney moaned.

John relaxed into the matress with a beatific smile as Rodney used his ascended powers to toss cotton buds at Ronon and Teyla, who proceeded to throw them at each other, while Carson watched as his infirmary began to resemble a snowglobe. This was home.

* * *

><p>It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open as he talked with Rodney, Ronon and Teyla, weariness seeping slowly through his body. It wasn't the bone deep, soul crushing weariness he had felt before though, it was light and plesant, a comfortable feeling that promised rest and relaxation after a long day, the soft call of sleep.<p>

It wasn't sleep that called, but a deeper, more profound rest, the shedding of all burdens. It didn't matter what awaited him, either ascension or death. He didn't want to leave yet though, he wanted to savor this feeling of belonging and peace, of family and friendship.

He could feel all his cares slipping away, and, for the first time, he actually believed that he could ascend, if he wanted to.

Rodney caught his eye and winked, and John smiled.

The smile was tinged with sadness though. He didn't want to go, he didn't wantto leave half his family behind.

He knew he had to though, the painkillers were losing there effectiveness, pain once again rippling through him. His body was failing. If he delayed much longer he didn't know if he'd be able to even try to ascend.

He looked at Ronon and Teyla, trying to convey all his love in that look, before turning to Rodney with a sad smile.

"It's time."

* * *

><p>Carson had given him one last dose of painkillers, just enough to take the edge off without making him drowsy. Caldwell had come down from the bridge and was standing at a respectful distance. Lorne was sitting on the adjacent bed despite Carson's strict orders to rest. Ronon and Teyla were on either side, Carson standing by.<p>

It was time to say his goodbyes.

He turned to Colonel Caldwell.

"Colonel, I'm sorry you won't be able to court marshall me." he said with a half smile.

Caldwell smiled in spite of himself, "I think I can live with that," he said dryly, "I found myself not looking forward to it like I thought I would."

"For what it's worth, I may not have always respected your authority, but I always respected _you_."

The Colonel's eyes widened in slight shock, "The sentiment is mutual Sheppard, while you may not have always made decisions I agreed with, everything you did was for the safety of your men. If that isn't worthy of respect, I don't know what is."

"Thankyou sir." John said, saluting his commanding officer as smartly as he could. Caldwell returned the salute just as smartly, before returning to his spot further back in the infirmary.

"Lorne, you were one heck of an XO, I knew I could always rely on you to take care of Atlantis when I wasn't around, and to keep people safe. Take care of the old girl for me would you?"

"I will sir." Lorne said, and he meant it. Atlantis was far more than just a city, and she needed someone to talk with every now and then. He to moved away to give the group a bit of space.

"Carson, please don't think any of this is your fault. You did a great job keeping me alive this long, and I'm not just talking about this time around. I can't begin to imagine what life would have been like without you there to patch me up, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have lasted a month. Your a wonderful doctor, even when you chasing me around the corridors with a needle or bugging me to eat more. Not just that, you're a great friend."

Carson smiled, though it was a slightly watery smile, "You're a bloody terrible patient," he tried to laugh, "But you're the best man I know, and a true friend. Never forget that John."

"I won't" John promised.

Carson drew back slightly, never going far enough away that he couldn't be there if he was needed.

"Ronon, Teyla, I'm sorry I have to leave you again, I'd do anything to stick around, but we all know I can't. Ronon, keep the marines from getting to cocky, they need to get there asses handed to them every now and then to remind them that they're not invincible. I wish I could fight like you can. Teyla, try to keep the expedition from making _too_ many enemies. I suppose I can say it now because you won't be able to get revenge, but you are _really_ pretty!"

"Take care of each other, don't let the expedition make _too_ many mistakes."

Teyla smiled gently, moving in to touch foreheads with John in the Athosian manner, "We will John."

Ronon clasped his arm gruffly, his eyes saying more than words ever could.

Rodney moved in.

"Ok John, you need to close your eyes and relax as much as possible for me," He said, his eyes filled with purpose, "Ronon, Teyla, if you could each put a hand on his shoulders, just enough to let him know you're there, I think it would help. John, you'll feel like your falling unconscious, but that's good, let it happen."

They did so, and John let himself relax into the infirmary bed, his eyelids growing heavy and sliding shut, his breathing slowing and his hear rate dropping. He felt the gentle pull of unconciousness, but this time he did not resist. The infirmary faded away. He could still feel the light touches on his shoulders, he knew he wasn't alone.

Rodney watched as John seemed to fall asleep, nodding to himself. He looked at Carson and smiled nervously, "This _should_ work."

Moving forwards he placed his hand on John's forhead, ignoring the looks of shock when he disappeared from the infirmary.

* * *

><p>John looked around, he was asleep, wasn't he? But at the same time, he wasn't, he was on the balcony in Atlantis, watching the sun rise over the ocean, a light sea breeze running through his hair. He slowly became aware of Rodney leaning against the rail beside him.<p>

"So this is what your mind came up with to relax?" Rodney said, looking around curiously, "Very nice?"

John smiled, "It's peaceful," he said as if it explained everything, "I used to come here nearly every morning, just to relax and watch the sun rise. Then I could walk through those doors into a brand new day."

"You know why we're here?"

"You're going to try and help me ascend."

"Yes, I am. I think you can do it, you're nearly there already. All you have to do is let go and walk through those doors."

John felt a tickle of doubt, "What if I'm not good enough?"

"John, the very worst thing that can happen is nothing at all. You will either acend or die, but either way you will go with the love of many. Do yourself a favor and try. I'm not very good at this spiritual mumbo jumbo, but try to see yourself as others see you."

"When people look at me they see a failure." John said sadly.

"No, when people look at you they see a man who _tries_. You beat yourself up over every death, because you try so hard to protect people. You see yourself as a failure because people die, but for every person you can't save, you save many many more. You have single handedly saved everyone on Atlantis many times over, just as many times as I have. If I can ascend, surely you can to?" He challenged.

"Please, just try."

John stood, slightly shocked at Rodney's words. For all that people told him he was a good person, he had never really believed them. He was a soldier, he killed to protect, it was his job. The way he saw it, laying down your life for the safety of others wasn't being a hero, it was just doing his job. He was expendable, Afghanistan had taught him that.

Of course he would never ask any of his men to do that, they were under his protection. He would die for any one of them. He realised that his sense of self worth was more than a little skewed, he was always willing to put himself in danger before everyone else. His own safety was something he rarely even considered.

Did that make him a good person, or just an idiot with a death wish?

Why did he feel such a strong need to protect?

Because every person was valued, every person was needed, every person deserved to be safe, and he could make them safe. He needed to protect them.

What else could he do? Could he turn his back and let someone else die in his place? Could he put his own safety before the safety of his men, or the civillians he protected?

No, he could never do that.

He was more than just a soldier following orders. He was more than just a man doing his job.

He was a protector, a guardian, always willing to do what was necesarry to keep his people safe.

And maybe, just maybe that meant he was a good person.

He squared his shoulders slightly.

"Ok Rodney, I'll try."

He walked towards the Door, feeling the world around him slip away. The balcony, the ocean and the sky, all of it fading away until all there was was the Door. The Door, two hands on his shoulders and Rodney standing triumphantly.

With a final breath he raised his hand to the Door. The Door opened, light pouring out and engulfing him.

Everyone watching was shocked as the monitors screamed frantically, John's heart had stopped.

The light surrounded him, it burned but there was no pain. His body was broken, but he no longer had any need of it. With a smile he turned to Rodney.

_See you on the other side._

He walked through the Door.

Rodney appeared as suddenly as he had disappeared, and was instantly bombarded with questions. Carson had lept into action, instinctively moving to try and restart John's heart.

"Carson, wait. Just watch." he said, smiling despite everyone elses panic.

Ronon and Teyla jolted back in shock as John's body started to glow, brighter and brighter and brighter until there was no body at all, just pure light, shining brighter than the sun.

He was shining, he could feel it. He could 'see' the infirmary, 'see' the shapes of his friends around the bed where his body had once lay. He almost wanted to stay.

But he couldn't.

With great effort he forced himself into a form they would recognise and stood before them, smiling. He was still glowing, still shining.

Rodney stepped forwards.

_Are you ready?_

John looked at his friends one last time.

_Only one way to find out._

The forms of Rodney and John flared inandescent white for one moment and then they were gone, leaving this plane of existence behind.

* * *

><p>It was... indescribable. There were simply no words for it, the very concept was intangible and insubstantial, it defied description. Pure energy swirled, power just a thought away, things he could never have imagined seeing or knowing or doing. He had no eyes to see with, no face to smile with, but somehow he grinned at Rodney, who was somehow there, but there was no <em>there<em>. He was everywhere, and nowhere, all at once.

Elation and delight flared within his soul, he was truly and finally free.

It felt... like flying.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Love it? Hate it? I really don't know if it's any good. Do you guys want an epilogue?


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